Path of Sins
by Alex Foster
Summary: When Link's friend steals an object of forgotten magic, a race against time begins to preserve history. As Link sets out to find the thief, Zelda seeks to learn about the magic, and, the event that happened four decades ago that incited the theft.
1. Prologue

Title: Path of Sins

Author: Alex Foster

Category: Drama

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Link's old friend steals an object of long forgotten magic, a race against time begins to preserve history itself. Soon Link sets off on a quest to find his friend before those who would use the power for evil means, while Zelda learns about the magic and the event that happen four decades ago that inspired the theft. As Link and Zelda's paths draw closer together, a startling truth is revealed...the evil Link seeks to stop from obtaining the magic may already have it in the form of his friend.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I have had so much fun writing this story it is ridiculous. It not only allowed me to explore a great and wondrous world only glimpsed in the games, but it also gave me a chance to get in touch with my inner Zelda since she has a much more prominent role than in my other stories. I can only hope that the readers are as captivated by this story and these characters as I am. Thank you very much for reading.

Map: I fashioned a small map of the area beyond Hyrule dealt with in this story. Just type this address into your browser Be sure to add an 'm' after the .co; I had to remove it for the address to show up.

In chapters five and above, it might be handy to have this map open in a second window so you can read and reference the map at the same time.

* * *

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Mine has been a path of sins, and I acknowledge that most of the blame for this distinction is mine alone. However, my daughter is an agent of prophecy, trained in the ways of the Sheikah. She is free and I know she will destroy you. I go to my death with pity in my heart for you.

King Harkinian's final words as spoken to Ganon

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Men are punished by their sins, not for them.

Elbert Hubbard (1856 - 1915)

* * *

****

Prologue

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Forty years before....

An army stood waiting for Duncan Azar.

The young, dark skinned Hylian peered over the edge of the rampart that had shielded him from view for most of the day, and saw a battalion of men, easily two hundred strong, waiting for him. The soldiers, all clad in King Hinart of Calatia red coat of arms, lined the grounds of the ancient monastery Duncan and his three friends had sought refuge in.

The building and its walls were decrepit and chipped from age and from weather. Duncan knew that when the attack came, this monastery would do little to slow the army.

Beyond the army, the barren land of northern Calatia stretched to the horizon. Boulders studded the landscape of reddish clay like unsightly boils. Here the mountainous terrain of southern Calatia flattened and opened to the desolate plains of the Wasteland of Canor. The sky was clear and rich blue and the air held a sweet scent that hinted that cooler weather was not long in coming. All of that seemed odd to Duncan; it was somehow wrong to have sunny, pleasant weather on the day people might die. It was as though nature itself had abandoned the condemned to their fate and refused to even allow a cloud to commemorate the lives that would be extinguished like a useless candle.

When Duncan's flight from the law began months earlier, he had wanted to travel south to the Gerudo Valley but his fellow thieves out voted him. Now, looking at the massive collection of men below, he had to wonder if waiting for death in a long abandoned house of worship was truly preferable to the possibility of capture by the Gerudo and being condemned to a life of slavery.

Duncan swallowed hard. He knew that Hinart's men were waiting for the arrival of wizards before they attacked. The army of Calatia had scrounged the countryside for Duncan and his friends over the past several months, but they were patient enough to wait for spell casters to ensure a quick victory.

The army had numbers, superior weaponry, and better supplies on their side, but Duncan and his comrades were trained in magic by the best wizards in Calatia. Although the four had not yet taken the oath of responsibility, the training of the Tower of Magic was very thorough and the field commanders out there had no wish to fight magic with just steel.

A squad would soon arrive from the Tower, and then the attack would commence. The wizards would cut through the monastery without leniency and easily put down any traps Duncan's companions had lain. There was little doubt in his mind that the Tower would send only the most powerful of spell casters to deal with this menace. Already this affair had embarrassed the Tower, and no one on the Ruling Council wanted to fumble the retrieval of Duncan and his comrades.

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Duncan wiped perspiration from his brow. Nearly a year ago when he and his cohorts had stolen a book of magic from the necromancers' enclave, it had never occurred to him that that one action would cost him his life. But death, he now knew, was the demanded price for his crime.

He did not fear an archer's arrow or a soldier's blade, but what the wizards would do to him to reclaim what he had taken from them. Knowledge, information, and power were what he had pilfered, and the penalty would be high; wizards guarded such things closer than a lioness protected her cubs. When the representatives from the Tower finally did kill him, it would be an act of mercy. It did not take a gift for magic or prophecy to foresee much pain and suffering in Duncan's future.

"Duncan," a voice whispered from the archway leading down into the monastery. "Any change?"

It was his friend and fellow thief, Givoi. Duncan shook his head and replied, "No, the soldiers are still there."

Givoi gave a short bark of a laugh, as though everything was going just as he'd planned. "We might just have time to finish the spell," he said with another laugh, then vanished back into the old monastery.

Duncan waited until he heard the sounds of Givoi's footfalls fade. "No, my friend," he said, watching the army settle in far below him. "This is not meant to be." Duncan once believed in greatness for his friends and for the world, but not anymore. A year of living on the run, sleeping on the hard ground and waking up with the taste of dirt in his mouth every morning had crushed that faith in him.

He wished that he could go back a year in time and stop his foolish younger self from making such big mistakes. But that was not possible, he knew. Time was time; it laughed like a sadist every time a man or a woman wished to go back and make changes. "Didn't you know mine was a one-way trip?" it would whisper in the ear of the forsaken.

Long ago a sorcerer had had the same wish, Duncan knew, and made it his life's work to bring reality to that desire. To be able to relive just one lost second, to reach backward and correct a wrong, to stop pain by preventing the wound. It had been music to Duncan's naive soul. He had tried following that sorcerer's teachings while at the Tower—even convincing several other students to join him—but failed in the end...just as the Sorcerer Thanos had.

Duncan leaned back against the cold stone rampart. Below he could hear the voices of soldiers as they readied themselves for battle. "None of this was ever meant to be..."


	2. Chapter One

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Chapter One

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Now....

It had become a routine for Isgrid. After her daily lessons, she would cross her small village to Old Lady Azar's house. In the summer time, when the air was hot but the breeze coming off the Great Hyrulian Sea felt cool against bare skin, she would alter her route so she could walk shoeless over the stone bluffs keeping the high waves from touching the village. She enjoyed the feeling of icy water washing across her bare toes while the hot sun burned her arms.

On those days, her mother would scold her for getting the hem of her dress wet, but Old Lady Azar never said anything when Isgrid's dress would drip on her floor. She would her famous toothless smile and recall a story from when she was young and it was still fun to walk barefoot over the stones near the Sea.

Isgrid's father was the owner of the general store in the village and often sent bundles of cloth to Old Lady Azar for her to weave into shirts, trousers, and even a coverlet once. Months ago, Azar had appeared in the general store offering her services as a needleworker. Isgrid's father hadn't been quick to accept her--secretly confessing when he didn't think his daughter could hear that he didn't believe those old, garneled hands were capable with a needle--but changed his mind after looking at Azar's sewing samples. Isgrid, much to her initial chagrin, became the official courier between the two.

Azar had greeted Isgrid warmly but also in a reserved fashion, as though she recognized and understood the weariness in the young girl's eyes. After a time, Azar began offering Isgrid hints of her life. It was not long before Isgrid's natural childhood curiosity overwhelmed her weariness and she began to crave those short tales of years past. Azar was the daughter of a successful merchant--something Isgrid could relate to--allowing his two children to become very well educated. But her father's business crumbled after his son was involved an incident at the fabled Tower of Magic. Isgrid had wanted to hear more about that story, but Azar always managed to turn the conversation away from her lost brother and defeated family.

Azar did not have much, her home barely managed to keep her dry and warm, but she always had a treat for Isgrid when they would talk. Most of the time it was just stale bread that the baker saved for the poor, but it did not matter what the treat, it was always delicious to Isgrid.

At first, Isgrid had been afraid to go to the old woman's home, but now that she knew all the rumors of Azar being a childeater were untrue, she looked forward to going. She looked forward to seeing Azar's toothless smile and hearing all about the days when this village was a port of call for boats transporting exotics from all over the known world. Azar was even teaching her how to sew and said someday her father wouldn't have to send his cloth away. Isgrid hope that wasn't true for she had grown quite fond of the old woman all the other kids shunned.

Holding her lesson book in one hand and her shoes in the other, Isgrid left the cool stones behind and returned to the main road. At her hip was a pouch containing Azar's payment for her most recent sewing work. Isgrid's father was a good man and paid the old woman well for her work, plus he gave her a little extra when he could spare it. Even with the extra rupees, however, the pouch at Isgrid's side was light.

Humming softly to herself, Isgrid walked down the main road. She passed several homes with their doors and windows standing open. The smells of ten different kinds of dinner cooking mixed with the smell of the sea and gave the air a sweet, mouthwatering scent. The sky above was a shade of deep blue that only summer could bring, it was clear but dark clouds hung low at the horizon and hinted at an approaching storm.

Isgrid knew that a storm would bring the fishing boats back into port. That fact made her happy because the village was always much more pleasant when its husbands, sons, and brothers were safely at home.

The buildings around her slowly began to change; they grew farther apart from one another and became simpler in design. This was the poor area of the coastal community, the home of those without money or ability to harvest the natural resources of living close to the sea. The smell of cooking dinner remained, but the variety of the food lessened. White sheets, some with holes and patches speaking of many years of use, hung from porches and lines, drying in the strong sea breezes.

Arriving at Old Lady Azar's house, Isgrid hefted her shoes and tapped the door with them.

"Come in, Isgrid!" an aged voice called from inside.

Azar always knew it was Isgrid at her door--she never called another name. Isgrid had once thought Azar was using magic, but had since figured out that no one else must ever visit the old woman.

Using her elbow, Isgrid turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. She walked in...and stopped cold. Nothing was the same: the room was bigger than it had always been; books lined shelves that hadn't been there before; and a marble statue of a man with his arms out in greeting that had certainly never been there before stood in the front hall.

Gone was the simple three-room home Azar had always occupied before, and in its place was an expansive showcase worthy of only the richest of merchants. Candleholders larger than Isgrid was tall illuminated the parlor. Everything was new and expensive looking. Even the outside of the home was different, Isgrid now noted. It was taller, almost three stories now, and its fresh white paint stood in stark contrast to the rest of the lowly homes in this part of the village.

Isgrid's jaw went slack and her shoes and lesson book hit the polished wood floor with a dull thud.

"What is a matter, dearie?" Azar asked, walking into the main room from an archway that hadn't been there during Isgrid's last visit.

Isgrid was about to ask what the joke was until she caught sight of Azar. The old woman was...changed. She was the same age, but now wore her years much better than she had before. Her back was now straight, not bent as it had been, and her skin was a healthy brown color and no longer stretched thin over her bones. In place of the worn brown robes she normally wore, Azar was now clad in a light, richly embroidered dress that swished about her legs as she moved.

"What is a matter?" she asked again. "You look like you've never seen the family home before." At that, she smiled, revealing a mouth full of well cared for teeth.

Isgrid screamed and ran.


	3. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

The members of the palace guard stationed at Hyrule Castle's north gate saw the rider before anyone else. Moving at a full gallop, the rider quickly approached the castle. Brown robes billowed about the lone figure as he or she raced for the gate without any sign of slowing.

General Glenn Tarmag, Captain of the Hylian Guard, lowered the fieldglasses and turned to the watchmen. "Keep the gate up!" he ordered.

Handing the fieldglasses off to one of his men, Glenn started down from the watchtower. He wanted to be in the courtyard when the rider arrived. "She's gonna kill that horse," he muttered as he clambered down the tower's wooden ladder.

Glenn was strong in stature from years of training and more than a little burly. He kept his palace sword—the first sword he'd ever used—at his hip with an aged baldric that crossed his leather armor. Though his beard was still chestnut, gray was starting to work its way into his unruly hair.

"Here she comes!" one of the watchmen called. Moments later, the rider flew past the gates.

Glenn marched across the courtyard as the lathered horse came to a halt. The rider swung from the saddle and fell easily into a battle stance.

"Hullo, Impa," Glenn said with a smile. "Nice to see ya finally returned."

The rider pushed back the hood of her weatherworn cloak revealing the lined face of the last Sheikah. Her red and chapped skin spoke of hours of hard riding. Impa didn't return Glenn's smile; her face remained weighed with important matters. "On whose side do you now fight, Tarmag?" she demanded.

Glenn's eyes narrowed. "The side of me father's father," he said. "The side of right."

"Sovereign?"

"Princess Zelda."

Impa relaxed visibly. "I wasn't sure, Glenn. But I am glad."

"Aye," he said. "Good to have ya back."

The last time the Sheikah and general spoke, Glenn had been under the influence of a blood spell cast by a creature of magic known as a Si'Ra. Impa had left the palace not long after Link and Zelda fled and had not been back since that night three years ago. Though Link had never said anything about Impa finding Zelda and urging her to stop the Si'Ra, Glenn had suspected that the Sheikah's roll in that fateful decision had not been small. Link and Zelda returned and not only stopped the Si'Ra but also halted his Si'Frant manservant, Vox, a confessed murderer. Seeing the horse she arrived on, he now knew without question that Impa had talked Link and Zelda into returning.

Impa turned to one of the young guardsmen standing off to the side. "You," she said pointing. "Take Epona here and make sure she is well cared for. Treat her right and she will respond in kind. Have the saddlebags brought to my chambers; _do not_ leave them for the Knight of the Triforce." That taken care of, she turned back to Tarmag. "I need to see Zelda and Link immediately."

Glenn shook his head. "Can't. Link and the Princess are away for the day."

"Where?" Impa asked, alarmed. "What are they trying to do?"

Glenn gave a chuckle. "Just enjoyin' a warm summer's day. I don't think ya stayed on vacation long enough, Impa."

"I wish I had been on vacation, Glenn," Impa said. "I've spent more than a year in the home of evil itself." She thought for a moment. "I need everyone that speaks Old Hylian gathered in the main library of the castle before the day is finished." She spun on her heel and started for the entrance to the palace.

Glenn scrambled to keep up. "What's goin' on? Is there danger?"

Impa stopped and met the larger man's worried gaze with one of her own. "More so than any of us ever realized before," she said.

* * *

Duncan Azar, now forty years older than he'd been that calamitous day the wizards of Calatia came for him, bent in the saddle of his stolen horse. Hard Biscuit, the gelding that had carried him across the Wasteland of Canor, neighed and bobbed his head. "Not much farther, boy," Duncan assured him.

Clad in tan robes that age had eaten to rags, Duncan's brown face was partly obscured by a gray beard that had been allowed to grow mangy with time and by a fold of cloth wrapped around his sightless eyes. Because of his blindness, Duncan placed all of his faith in Hard Biscuit to carry him safely down the dangerous roads of the Wasteland of Canor.

"A little farther, boy," he said again and urged the gelding forward. The shaggy horse lumbered on, using instinct to choose the best path in the direction Duncan indicated.

It had been several months since he had stolen Hard Biscuit and a sack of supplies from Impa and left her behind in the dead forest of Canor. Travel had been hard and slow going, but Duncan could feel his destination growing closer with every passing day. Duncan had long ago learned how to use other senses than eyesight, and that ability was now working with a magical relic recovered from the Chamber of Tears, a place of evil the Si'Ra and Si'Frant had once occupied.

Duncan reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew an oblong stone about the size of his index finger. Rolling the relic in his hand, he could feel the indentations of Old Hylian symbols beginning to form along the center of the stone. It had been years since he last read the dead language, but he knew the symbols would eventually tell a story. It would become a record of a new history.

He dropped the stone back into his pocket and urged the horse to move faster. It would soon be time to begin correcting old wrongs.

* * *

Isgrid ran until her feet were bloody from the small sharp stones jutting from the ground. Driven by panic and confusion, she pushed on heedless of pain. Her mind tried to wrap around what she had seen. The woman inside that large home had looked like Azar, yet it could not have been the same person. Isgrid wasn't sure how the house could have looked the same as it always had from the outside and be so different inside.

Catching her bare toe on a loose stone, Isgrid stumbled to the ground. She hit hard and rolled down the incline of a hill. She came to a rest in cold, wet mud.

Isgrid looked about and realized that nothing was familiar here either. She had left the village behind and was now at the mouth of a long stretch of grassy dale that rose and fell slightly with small hills. Not far from where she sat, was the thin bank of a narrow river. In one direction it curved sharply around her, hugging the grassy land, and in the other it flowed behind her only to again curve away. Isgrid knew that the river could be used to find the coast of the sea, but the water was still and she had no idea in which direction to follow it.

Trying to remember all that her parents had taught her about what to do when lost, Isgrid started to cry. Why couldn't Azar have been the same? Why did this have to happen?

"It's not fair," she muttered through sobs.

Isgrid suddenly heard movement behind her. She turned back and saw a large man with bulging arm muscles walking slowly toward her. He was clad in leather armor and a cloak colored to look like greenery and wore a sword at his waist with a silver ornament above its handgrip. As he moved and the cloak parted, she caught sight of a brace filled with knifes strapped to his leg.

Tears forgotten in favor of the urge to flee from the scary looking man, Isgrid came quickly to her feet and ran. Blades of grass found their way underneath her skirt and cut into the unprotected skin of her feet and legs, but she didn't pay the pain any mind. She just wanted away. She wanted home.

Isgrid heard the man behind her shouting, but she was too far away to make out words. She cleared the top of another hill and started down the other side. Focused only on the man behind her, she didn't see the two people at the bottom of the hill until she was nearly to them. She stopped short to keep from colliding with the man and woman.

Winded and wide-eyed, Isgrid realized that the people were just as shocked to see her as she was to see them. She wondered if the man behind her would hurt them. Should she warn them?

The woman was tall, but only rose to the shoulder of the man beside her. She had beautiful golden hair that spilled down her back in a gentle wave. She was clad in a dress of pure white and looked like she was someone of great importance.

The man was muscular but not bulky like the man in leather. He had light brown hair that blew slightly with the push of the breeze. He wore brown trousers and a tan tunic that seemed to blend perfectly with the land around them. Though she had not seen it before, Isgrid now became aware of a sword at the man's waist. The sword did not have a silver medallion like the scary man's blade, but did have a symbol of the Triforce above an unblinking eye on the handgrip.

Isgrid looked back and saw the man in leather clear the top of the hill. He paused for a moment, taking in the scene, then started down. "We have to run," she said, somehow knowing this man and woman would be friends not foes.

"We have nothing to run from," the woman said. Her voice was soft and gentle like a warm summer breeze against bare skin. She raised her hand and waved the advancing man back. He stopped without question. Isgrid's eyes went wide again.

The man clad in tan dropped to one knee so he was eye level with Isgrid. He gave her an easy smile. Watching him do that, she suddenly thought of Glenit, the man that owned the inn across from her father's shop. He always talked to the village children at their level, never looking down to speak to them.

"Don't be frightened, little one," the man before her said. Glenit always called her little one, too. "My name's Link. This here is Zelda. And that man back there is Bacar." Link leaned in as though he was telling her a deep secret. "He's big, but puppies make him jumpy."

Isgrid felt laughter bubble up at the image of that big man scared of little dogs. "My name's Isgrid," she said, suddenly more relaxed in the presence of this tall, composed man.

"Well, hello, Isgrid," the woman called Zelda said. "What are you doing out here?"

"I—" Isgrid faltered. She didn't know what to say. Would they believe her about Azar and the house being different? "I was running from a woman who scared me."

"What did this woman do to frighten you?" Link asked.

Looking at Link's blue eyes, Isgrid couldn't make herself lie. She told them about Azar and the house suddenly being different in a mad, tangled rush of words. Link and Zelda listened patiently and shared a long glance when Isgrid finished her rant.

"Where is your village?" Link asked, looking back to Isgrid.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just ran until I found myself here."

Zelda glanced at Bacar expectedly.

"Scouts reported a seaside village named Calbor a couple of miles from here," he said without hesitation.

"Would you like to go home, Isgrid?" Link asked. "You have my promise no one will hurt you there. And I always keep my promises."

"Yes, thank you, Link," Isgrid said.

Link smiled again and said, "Zelda?"

Zelda reached out her hand and Isgrid gladly took it. Unlike women the same age as Zelda in Isgrid's village, her skin was soft as though she had never shucked clams or tied fishnets. Isgrid found the feel of such soft skin fascinating.

Link came to his full height and walked to Bacar. "Tell the boys to keep some breathing space," he said quietly. "The village should be safe enough for me to protect Zelda without a ring of steel."

"As you command, Sir Link," Bacar said.

At that Isgrid wondered if Link was a knight, but then decided he didn't look like someone accustomed to wearing armor.

* * *

"Is Bacar your brother?" Isgrid asked.

Zelda's painted lips pulled upward in a tight smile. "No, but he does insist on protecting me as one," she said.

Isgrid walked next to Zelda and held her hand while Link stayed two paces behind them. The men in Isgrid's village always walked ahead of their women; she didn't know why Link was different. He walked with his left hand hovering over the hilt of his sword, tunefully tapping his fingers against the hard metal. His gaze slowly tracked left then right; Isgrid thought he was looking for something but didn't know what.

"Is Link your brother?" she asked.

Before Zelda could reply, Link laughed and said, "No, but there are rumors."

"And he, too, insists on protecting me as a brother might," Zelda added, giving Link a humor filled glance.

"I do try, princess," he said, bowing deeply.

Isgrid turned sharply to Zelda. "Are you a Princess?" she asked.

"When Link calls me princess, it is more of a...sobriquet than a title," Zelda said.

"A sobowhat?"

"A pet name," Link offered with a wide grin.

Zelda sighed softly. She didn't return Link's smile.


	4. Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

"Mommy! Daddy!" Isgrid broke free of Zelda's grip and shot forward as fast as her short legs would carry her.

"I think we found them," Link muttered.

The young girl crossed the distance to a couple standing in front of a two-story building with a sign marked "General Store" over its door. The two turned toward Isgrid when they heard her voice. The man was short and slightly thick in the middle. His face was smooth, but gray had just started to appear at the temples of his thinning hair; Zelda guessed that he was about ten years older than Link. The woman was younger than her husband, but not by much. She wore a conservatively cut pink dress faded by years of use and a white apron knotted snugly at the waist. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, but several loose strains blew in the breeze while others stuck to the corner of her mouth. Both he and she had lines of worry around their eyes—worry for Isgrid, Zelda assumed.

Isgrid stopped short when she saw an old, dark skinned woman emerge from the shop. The woman, bent with age and wrapped in old brown robes, stood behind Isgrid's parents and gave a toothless smile. The light of the smile reached her eyes and for a moment masked the weariness of one that had witnessed and experienced the raw cruelty of a poor existence. "You had me worried, dearie," she said.

"And I think we found Azar," Zelda said softly.

Isgrid's mother rushed to the child and pulled her into a tight embrace. The little girl peered over the relieved woman's shoulder and kept her gaze on Azar.

"Where have you been?" Isgrid's father asked, walking forward. He caught sight of Link and Zelda and positioned himself between them and his wife and child. "Who are you?"

"Your daughter was lost and ran into us outside this village," Zelda said. "We offered to escort her back home."

"Thank you. Thank you very much," Isgrid's mother said, still clutching the little girl.

"She mentioned that a woman named Azar frightened her into running," Link said, looking pointedly at the woman clad in brown.

All eyes turned to Azar. She drew back in genuine surprise. "I never saw Isgrid today," she said. "That is why I came here—to check on Isgrid. When she did not arrive at her normal time, I thought something might be wrong. I haven't left this shop all morning, young man."

Link frowned and tipped his head slightly as he thought.

"Are you sure she couldn't have seen you get angry at something or someone?" Isgrid's father asked.

"I am positive," Azar said. "I would have sensed her presence had she been near."

Link deepened his frown.

Azar lowered herself until she was at Isgrid's eye level. "I'm sorry if you saw something frightening, Isgrid, but it could not have been me. I never left my home until after our usual meeting time, and then I came right to your parents."

Isgrid continued to stare for a long moment before nodding slowly and finally relaxing into her mother's arms.

"We're sorry," her mother said to Link and Zelda. "She doesn't normally make up stories."

"It's perfectly fine," Zelda said.

Link didn't seem to hear the apology. He walked to Azar and helped her to her feet.

"Thank you, young man," she said, smoothing her robes.

"You seem very familiar to me," he said. "Do you by chance know a man named Duncan?"

Azar gave him a hard stare for several seconds before finally glancing down and saying, "I have not heard that name in decades. I had a brother named Duncan."

"Had?"

"He died forty years ago," she said simply.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Azar turned her back on Link and looked to Isgrid's father. "I shall await your next cloth bundle, Bernad. Good day, Isgrid. I hope you will continue to visit me after today." Keeping her gaze on her old shoes, Azar moved away.

Zelda felt a pang of sympathy for the old woman watching her move slowly down the empty street. Loneliness seemed to hover around the woman like an aura. The princess wondered what had happened in Azar's life to cause such sadness and detachment.

Isgrid's mother guided her child into the store with a firm grip on both shoulders. It didn't look like that grip would lessen any time to come. "Bye, Link! Bye, Zelda!" the little girl called over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, little one," Link said with one last smile just for her.

"Thank you again," Bernad said, relief still coloring his tone. "We had half the village out searching for her."

"It was our pleasure to help," Zelda said. "Come on, Link."

Link fell in step behind Zelda and the pair started back the way they came.

"Say," Bernad called after them. "What were you two doing out so far south and west in Hyrule's Field?"

"We were walking down by the bank of the Jidra River," Link answered. "Zelda never skipped stones as a child so I was showing her how."

* * *

Old Lady Nara Azar didn't return home to her three-room shack after leaving Isgrid and the shop. Thoughts stirred by that young man's comments drew her in another direction. She shuffled along with her head bowed and robes pulled tight against the strong sea breeze through the affluent area of Calbor and past the lowly poor section. Where she needed to be was beyond even the lower class areas of her hometown.

Here the smell of sea salt was less noticeable and a merciful silence replaced the squawking of the ever-present gulls. It was a respectful quiet in honor of those that had earned a measure of peace. Azar's destination was the Calbor cemetery.

There were few gravemarkers given the long life span of Calbor. Azar reflected that most people born near the sea wished to spend forever in it than in the ground. She could understand that wish, but did not share it. How could one deny his or her family the bitter joy of visiting a grave and having a physical reminder of people they loved?

Her family had a long history in Calbor and the gravestones reflected that fact. Nara had many fond memories of spending Remembrance Day here with her parents and brother. One day, she knew, it would be her turn to rest in this cemetery. Then, however, there would be no one to mourn her. She was the last of her family...the last of a once great line.

Her family had at one time ruled Calbor and provided much of this area of Hyrule with goods from all over the known world. The import business was faltering by the time her father took charge, but it was what happened to her brother at the Tower of Magic that finally killed the business and finished her father.

The Tower of Magic refused to cooperate with the family after the incident, refused to even give up Duncan's body. They simply said that he, Duncan, had died along with several others attempting to escape with a magical object from the necromancers' enclave. The representatives from the Tower had talked warmly with Nara and her father, had expressed remorse, but in actuality were quite cold in anything beyond talking.

They never offered a reason for Duncan's death or gave details of the theft. The Tower of Magic saw to his burial wherever the wizards disposed of their dead. The fate of Duncan Azar and his comrades had become a secret in the school of magic, and it was said the renowned Tower of Magic guarded its secrets closer than anything in the world.

Her father had spent the final years of his life fighting and protesting the policy of the Tower. He filed formal complaints at the Tower and even traveled to the distant Calatia Castle to seek an audience with King Hinart and later his daughter, Queen Seline. He spent months away from the business and Nara had been ill prepared to control such a far-reaching company. In the end, the business failed and Duncan and Nara's father died a sad, broken man.

Nara stopped in between two gravemarkers. She slowly lowered herself to rest on her knees and considered the two slabs of stone for a long moment. Engraved on one stone was her father's name and dates of birth and death, on the other was her brother's name and life-span information.

Old Lady Nara Azar, alone in the cemetery and in the world, bowed her head and began to pray and cry.

* * *

Several women beating rugs against stones shot inquisitive glances at Link and Zelda as the pair walked through the outskirts of Calbor. Link waved merrily to the women, but they turned away as though they hadn't noticed.

"You will make a good father," Zelda said thoughtfully, staring at the path ahead.

"Is this your coy yet loving way of telling me something, princess?" Link asked.

She gave him a small shove. "Stop it, Link. I'm serious."

He shrugged and watched the ground as they walked. "I really don't see children in my future," he admitted. "I am a Knight of the Triforce—the last Knight of the Triforce—and any of my offspring would carry that responsibility and power. The magic is always dominant in the blood."

"There are worse things to pass on to the next generation," Zelda said.

Link kicked a small stone with the toe of his boot, sending it half way up a slight incline only to have it roll back down to him. "Not many," he said softly.

"As you grow older," Zelda said, "and when you find a woman unafraid of your responsibility and power, you shall think differently."

Link smiled at looked at her long and hard. "It's never that simple, Zelda. Not for people like us, anyway."

"And what kind of people are we?" she asked, meeting his stare.

He twirled his finger to indicate the world around them. "The kind of people that make sure the world is a simple enough place for others to have children without worrying about the power they would inherit."

"But what about the legacy of the Knights? Is it not part of your responsibility to assure the protection of the Triforce and the people of Hyrule?"

Link glanced at her in mild surprise. "The Knights of the Triforce are not needed to guard against misuse of the Triforce," he said, adopting his best teacher-to-student tone. "Despite years spent guarding from misuse and telling others how to wish properly, I failed to use the Triforce rightly when it mattered. I misused the Triforce by seeking to grant something that wasn't mine to give. And the people of the world can take care of themselves—they just don't all realize it yet."

Zelda knew what misuse he was referring to: just several months ago a race of people known as the Si'Frant had arrived in Hyrule looking to Link for help. The Si'Frant had been servants of the Si'Ra, and when she and Link stopped Fegobvesjarod, the last Si'Ra in the world of the living, the Si'Frant had been left dependant on a spell that would eventually kill the entire race if Link didn't magically enslave them to his will. After much debate, Link had tried using the Triforce to end the spell and free the Si'Frant, but they betrayed him and attempted to use the object of magic to return the Si'Ra to life. In the end, Link banished the Si'Frant from Hyrule in the hope they would live out their days pursuing a future rather than becoming slaves to the past.

"Who will be the one to teach the world that if not you and your children?" Zelda asked. "It sounds like just the task you'd love."

He shook his head minutely. "You're probably right, but that's not my job anymore."

"I still think you'll change your opinion one day," Zelda said.

"I hope you're right, princess." Link leaned in and put his arm around her waist. "Come on, let's find your brothers and go home."

Just then, the world seemed to blink. Time slowed and reality suddenly felt as though it was curling inward like paper in a fire. Scorched blackness spilled across the ground before them and spread like an offensive stain.

The sea breeze turned cold and desolate. The scent of decay and neglect filled the air with a pungent stench. Link and Zelda looked back and found Calbor in ruins; buildings lay crumbled in heaps of rubble. Beams of wood protruded from the wreckage like the exposed bones of a dead animal. The wood weathered from years of exposure to the sea air; this catastrophe had not recently occurred.

Before Zelda could form a question, the world twisted again and all was as it had been before the sudden change. Calbor again stood; unfriendly women beat dusty rugs against stones, seemingly unaware of what had just happened; the air was again clear with just the hint of salt; and the darkness was gone from the ground.

"What in the name of the Light happened?!" Link asked.

Zelda found her voice. "You felt that, too?"

"How could I not?"

"They don't seem to have felt anything," she answered, meaning the women beating rugs.

"I think we need to get back to the palace," Link said. "Right now."

Zelda could find no reason to disagree.

* * *

There was movement near him.

Duncan had no sight to tell him what it was, but he could sense no aggressive intent.

He shuffled his way down the marble corridor, his hands against the wall for guidance. He had left his precious walking stick, a gift from his sister before going to the Tower to complete his education, outside the palace with Hard Biscuit. Duncan knew he would not need the stick here, for he would soon know the layout of the entire temple and walk without hesitation wherever he wished. Already the knowledge and magic were flowing into his mind.

The same magic that had crafted the stone in his pocket had sculpted these walls, and once the stone was completely open to him, that magic and more would become his to use. His cheeks tingled with the prospect of such power...the power over destiny itself.

A gnarled hand brushed over Duncan's arm and he understood. The guardians of the temple were servants of the same long forgotten sorcerer he had once tried to emulate. They were keepers of Thanos' Palace just as he was keeper of the Eye of Thanos.

They welcomed him.


	5. Chapter Four

****

Chapter Four

Link, Zelda, and a company of three guards rode into the courtyard of Hyrule Caste at a full gallop. Drawing the reins of his lathered mare, Link came to a stop and dismounted. "Seal the gates," he commanded. "Glenn!"

Servants rushed forward to help Zelda from the saddle and take charge of the horses. Glenn Tarmag emerged from the palace and started for the group.

"Nice to see yer back, Link," he said. "Princess Zelda, fine ride I hope."

"Did anything odd happen here about three hours ago?" Link asked without preamble. "A...winking out of sorts?"

Glenn shook his head. "No, nothin' like that. The only thing out o' the ordinary was Impa ridin' back and orderin' all speakers of Old Hylian to meet with her."

Link raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I'd say that qualifies as out of the ordinary," he said.

"Impa's back? Where is she?" Zelda said, unable to keep a smile from her face. Nearly three years had passed since she'd last seen her childhood nanny. It was at that last meeting that Impa had given her a Sheikah knife and sent her with Link on a mission to reclaim the throne of Hyrule from Fegobvesjarod.

Glenn jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "In the main library. She's got everyone that knows Old Hylian in there with her, but I ain't got any idea what she's up to."

"Let's go seen them." Link placed his hand on the small of Zelda's back and led her forward. Glenn fell in step behind them.

"Did she say what she needed interpreted?" Link asked.

"No," the Captain of Guards said. "She's been real secretive."

"I doubt she would need help interpreting Old Hylian," Zelda said, climbing the wide steps leading to the main building. Honor guards stationed near the door and holding halberds in relaxed positions snapped to attention and saluted. "She taught the language to me."

They walked underneath the raised portcullis of the keep and entered the heavily reinforced wooden doors that were standing open to allow the summer air to warm the ever-present dampness of the castle. The front hall was a grand rotunda with windows set high above the head of an average man. A semicircle of polished white marble columns stood between the windows in the foyer. Sunlight streaming down from the lofty windows shone brilliantly against the pillars and marble floor.

Large paintings and tapestries hung on the walls of the circular room. In the colder months, the wall decorations would work to prevent heat from escaping the castle. Zelda's most recently commissioned tapestry had just been finished and hung several weeks earlier. It detailed a legendary story of a Knight of the Triforce that asked for a challenge and received one in the form of fighting his own shadow. The story ends with the Knight sacrificing his life to destroy the shadow—a reminder that sometimes victory comes at the price of loss.

Winding downward from the upper levels of the palace was a red carpeted staircase wide enough for four men to comfortably walk abreast. Without a second glance at the grand spectacle of Hyrule Castle, or to the guards and servants scurrying about, Zelda started up the massive staircase with Link and Glenn following close behind her. They climbed to the second level and walked to the main library. The palace had seven libraries: two that were heavily guarded and reserved for books of magic; one main study that was open to noble and commoner alike; three that served as a conduit of overflow from the main library; and one private study for Zelda. Link and Impa were the only guests allowed in Zelda's private library.

The thick mahogany doors to the great study were open wide on their hinges allowing the musty smell of old books to escape. Impa stood with a collection of elderly library caretakers and the royal physician, Birni Fadisous, around a table stacked high with books. Two arguments seemed to be going on at the same time between two of the caretakers and between Impa and Birni.

"—and I'm telling you it's wrong!" Impa's strong voice carried above the jumble of words. She brought her fist down hard on the tabletop, knocking over a cup of tea. One of the caretakers jumped and slid across the table to move a book out of the way of the quickly spreading liquid.

Zelda cleared her throat.

All eyes turned to the double doors and the arguments immediately ceased. "P-P-Princess Zelda," the man still lying across the table stuttered. A now sizable tea stain darkened his white robe.

Everyone but Impa scrambled to bow. "It is good to see you, child," she said, stepping away from the table.

Zelda, tears brimming in her eyes, crossed the distance between them and embraced Impa. "Good to see you, too."

Impa stroked Zelda's hair. "I only wish the circumstances were better," she said.

Zelda drew back. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Welcome home, Impa," Link said, coming up behind Zelda. "Did Epona find you and Duncan after we left Calatia?"

At Duncan's name, Impa tensed. Her gaze, light and friendly with Zelda, turned dark and antipathetic when she caught sight of the Knight of the Triforce. "Yes," she said briskly. "Your horse is in the stables. She served me well."

"I wouldn't use the word 'served' in front of her if I were you," Link said with a smile.

"What is all this for?" Zelda asked, waving her hand over the table.

"I am searching the ancient texts for an item I saw in a dream," Impa said. "Though the good doctor has questioned my interpretation of the object."

"What object?" Link wondered.

The caretaker with the tea stained robe offered a sheet of parchment with a crude charcoal sketch on it. Link accepted it with a nod of thanks. On the paper was a drawing of an oval about the length of Link's index finger. At the bottom of the parchment written in smooth cursive were the words: _Beth was_, _Beth ydy_, and _Beth shall bod_.

"What am I looking at here?" Link asked.

"Impa drew that from her dream," Birni said doubtfully.

"I drew it while I was dreaming," Impa corrected.

Link blinked. "_While_? Do you normally do that?" he asked.

Impa shook her head.

"What do these words mean?"

Zelda looked over his shoulder and frowned. "Well, the words mean 'what was', 'what is', and 'what shall be', but the grammar in the sentence is incorrect."

"Very good, Zelda," Impa praised.

"I don't follow," Link said.

"Look here." Zelda took the drawing and pointed to the first word. "_Beth was_ is correct by itself, but not in this relation with _Beth ydy_ and _Beth shall bod_. Words flow up to down, not left to right, in Old Hylian. This order would mean each word is fragmented from the others, but if that were the case _Amseru _would have been used."

"_Amseru_ means time?" Link guessed.

"Yes," Zelda said. "In Old Hylian, independent words are not used when a single phrase or clause could be used instead."

"So, instead of naming each item in a group," Link said, "the group itself would be introduced?"

"Crudely put," Impa said. "But something like that."

"What could such wording mean?" he asked.

"Impa believes that the wording gives indication of a substitution," Birni said. "She thinks the wording was done purposely instead of accidentally."

Link looked from Birni to Zelda for an explanation.

"If Impa is correct," Zelda said, "then each of these words are correct because either could be used in place of the other in the context of the object drawn here."

"But they mean past, present, and future," Link said. "If that doesn't mean time, I don't know—"

"There lies the dispute!" Birni put in, looking pointedly at Impa.

Zelda's gaze turned to the parchment in her hands. She studied the three words for a long moment. "Prophecy," she said quietly in realization.

"A prophecy that extends to the past?" Link said. "Does Old Hylian allow for an oxymoron?"

Impa took the paper from Zelda. "Don't be flip, Link," she snapped. "I foresaw horrible things around this object."

"What sort of things?" the Knight asked, jovial tone immediately gone.

She shook her head. "Nothing easily understandable. Flashes of war, men dying, and of wizards grieving over a burned book."

Link gave a glance about the room. "Is Duncan here?" he asked. "He might be able to help if we describe the object to him."

"Duncan and I parted ways in the Wasteland of Canor."

Link asked, "You left him there?" as Zelda asked, "What were you doing out of Calatia?"

Impa looked from Knight to Princess. "_He_ left me," she said. "And we were investigating an old religious site known as the Chamber of Tears. Duncan had wanted to steal Si'Ra artifacts in case you and Link failed to stop Jarod."

"Why did he leave?" Zelda asked.

"How did he leave?" Link added.

"He took half of my survival supplies and stole a horse," Impa said, frowning. "That old fool can be quite independent when he wishes."

Link nodded in agreement.

"Do you have any idea where he could have gone?" Zelda asked. "Canor allows for many options."

Impa looked again to the drawing of the oval. "This object is the reason he vanished; he either is searching for it or already possesses it." She shook her head. "In my visions, he was holding this object as the world crumbled. The only time it was not in his possession was when the wizards were grieving for their lost book."

"Then we have to find him." Link tapped the parchment. "We have to find this."

Impa agreed. "Come, Zelda. Your language training is needed."

* * *

Hours passed with mind numbing monotony. Glenn, knowing he could offer no help with translating Old Hylian, returned to his administrative duties soon after Impa and Zelda began their research. Servants brought in oil lamps as the sun began to vanish into the horizon. Outside the windows the sky was rosy pink with the setting sun. Dark clouds hovered at the edge of what could be seen, a slowly approaching storm. The soft rustling of pages shuffling filled the quiet chamber with a hypnotic rhythm.

Link sat on a table in the corner of the library with his knees pulled to his chin watching Impa, Zelda, and the scholars work over stacks of old books at the other end of the library. They spoke to each other in hushed tones in a tongue he did not understand: Old Hylian. He smiled slightly at the sight of Zelda working. She leaned with the palms of her hands flat against the tabletop in front of her, reading from an open book that was taller than his hand was wide. She was visibly tired from the slow, boring research work, but showed no signs of quitting. An aura of captivating intelligence hovered around the ruler of Hyrule and engulfed even the quiet wisdom of the last Sheikah.

The Knight smiled because this was where Zelda appeared the most at home. She was a woman grown from a child-warrior and, after so many years spent fighting, could finally embrace a life of using knowledge and intellect instead of living from shadow to shadow, slitting the throats of enemies that ventured too close.

Intellect and passion for knowledge were admirable traits that she would one day pass on to the next generation. Link's smile turned sad. He knew Zelda had been searching for something from him with her comments earlier that day. He spoke of all that children symbolize, but she had meant actual offspring.

At one time, her words and the invitation they carried would have delighted him. He would have taken her and sworn away Hyrule, the Knights, and the Triforce if she wished it, but now he knew better; he more carefully considered the consequences that would spread throughout the world.

This was center stage and for keeps, he knew. The responsibility of the Knights of the Triforce must not continue past him. Fate had already stepped in and eliminated all of his predecessors. Once there had been hundreds of Knights, councils and committees to decide the best usage of the Triforce, but now there was only him. The Hylian laws that gave the Knights discretion over the Triforce were old and outdated.

Zelda was another matter, however; her lineage must continue. Hyrule needed her and those like her. It was for that reason he could no longer give her what she wanted. The disastrous events of the Si'Frants' visit made that painfully clear to him.

As Zelda grew older, Link knew, he would have to again pull away from her and the Seat of Hyrule. She only had a small window within her life to give birth, and he would not steal those years from her.

After another half an hour of watching the futile searching, Link reached for one of Impa's discarded tomes. Opening it, he found pages filled with Old Hylian text. He flipped slowly through the book.

"Do you understand any of that?" a voice asked beside him.

He looked up to see Zelda standing next to his table. "Hylian I understand," he said, waving the book for emphasis, "but this is cucco scratches."

Zelda smiled and sat on the tabletop next to him. She pulled her knees to her chin, copying his posture. "Then why look through it?" she asked.

Link shrugged and continued to turn pages. "I'm always willing to learn, princess."

Zelda interlaced her hands on her knees and rested her head on them. She blinked her blood-shot eyes. "You don't have to wait here, Link," she said. "I'll send for you if we find something."

"I know, but I want to be here." He closed the book and set it on the tabletop. "I do believe I have a new enemy."

Zelda frowned. "I don't understand."

Link nodded toward Impa; the Sheikah glanced up, met his gaze, then turned back to her work. "She's been giving me the evil eye since I walked into the library," he said.

Zelda's deepened her frown. "Why?"

"Guilt by association, perhaps?" he said. "Duncan is my friend."

"Do you want me to speak with her?" Zelda asked.

Link shook his head. "No, that will not be necessary. I'll talk to her when the time is right."

Zelda sighed and rubbed her temples. "What do you think of all this, Link? Could Duncan do the things Impa saw in her dream?"

Link thought for a full minute. "I honestly don't know," he said at last. "He has been my friend for years now, but I know very little of him. He never talks about his past, or keeps any mementos that might offer clues to his life before he stopped me on the street of Castle Town and offered to read my fortune."

Zelda looked away, obviously disappointed and tired. Link reached out and put his arm around her shoulders; she responded at once by leaning into his shape. Her hair smelled like lilacs and jasmine. He tightened his left hand into a fist and forced his mind to focus on what would have happened had she not intervened when he gave the Si'Frant the Triforce. Immediately the instincts that saved his life countless times while traveling the world came alive and he knew Impa was again staring at him. And this time he knew why.

The caretaker with the tea stain on his robe brought his head up sharply. "I think I found something," he said.

Everyone in the room turned to look at the caretaker. He blushed and muttered, "I-I think."

Link and Zelda glanced at each other and then jumped from the table. "Don't be nervous," Link began.

"Just tell us what you found," Zelda finished.

The caretaker held out the book he'd been studying. "A-an object matching Impa's. A matching description, that is."

Impa reached over the table and grabbed the book from him. "'The Eye of Thanos,'" she read aloud. "The written description does match what I saw."

A mumble of "I haven't heard of that before," and "Neither have I," rippled between seven of the most learned people in Hyrule.

"'A legendary stone of great power carved by the Necromancer Thanos,'" Impa continued. "'Believed to have a direct effect on the flow of time, the Eye is said to grant its user the power to alter the past at will.'"

An uneasy silence fell over the room. It was Link who finally broke the quiet: "Does the book say where this Eye of Thanos can be found?"

Impa shook her head. "No, that is all there is about the stone."

"So we know nothing more than we did three hours ago!" Birni said in exasperation. "You have us chasing cuccos, Impa." Several caretakers nodded in agreement.

Link ignored the arguing and became lost in thought. Realization came like a slow ache in his bones; he already knew what he had to do. He now had enough facts to act, even though the scholars wanted more proof.

"Now that we know the name of the object," Zelda said, silencing the quibbling, "we can do a more thorough search of the libraries."

Link snapped out of his reverie at the sound of her voice. "Impa," he said. "How sure are you that this stone is what Duncan left you to find?"

Impa didn't hesitate. "There is no question in my mind. I saw him holding it."

Link nodded. "Then I shall leave at dawn."

"Leave!" Zelda spun to face him. "Where are you going? You don't know where this Eye of Thanos is—if it is even real."

"No, but Duncan believes it's real," Link answered. "And I know the Eye can't be in Hyrule or Calatia for Duncan would have returned with Impa in it were. He left her in Canor which means that is where I start looking for him. I find him, and, if it exists, I find the stone."

"The Wasteland of Canor is huge, Link," Impa cautioned. "Without a set location, you could lose more time than you hope to save."

"A hunter can always find his prey," Link said. "And time is exactly what I hope to save; if the Eye of Thanos is real, and if Duncan reaches it before we do, we will not have time enough to stop him. He could alter time and prevent us from ever knowing about the stone. The world could change around us and we would be completely unaware."

"Like what happened in Calbor," Zelda whispered. At Impa's questioning stare, she and Link explained the winking out they felt while leaving the town.

Impa thought for a long moment. "Then you must go," she said to Link. "Duncan may already possess the stone."

Link agreed. "Zelda, you and Impa must discover all that you can about this Eye of Thanos. I suggest searching for the history of the Necromancer Thanos. If he kept any records, they might tell us how to destroy the Eye." He turned to the caretakers. "I am going to need all the maps of Canor we have."

"I'll copy them to smaller parchment personally, Sir Link," one caretakers said.

"Any maps here will be old and out of date," Birni said. "It has been hundreds of years since an expedition was sent into Canor."

"I must make do with what we have," Link told him. "Once I have a general idea of the Wasteland of Canor, I can begin my search.

The doctor nodded in agreement, but still looked doubtful. Zelda gazed worriedly out the high windows to the distant storm bearing down on Hyrule, while Impa turned her back to the Knight of the Triforce, looked at the crude sketch of the Eye of Thanos, and smiled slightly.


	6. Chapter Five

****

Chapter Five

Using the halberd he held with both hands as a cane, Pav, holder of the Criv and wearer of the Mik of Canor, lowered himself to sit on a nearby rock. His old bones and joints ached as he moved. It had been a long journey from Hyrule, and Pav knew that his endtime was near at hand. Letting the spear fall to the ground, he placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "We are all dead," he said mournfully.

Circled around Pav was a large assembly of Si'Frant—the last surviving members of a warrior-race dedicated to the service of the Si'Ra gods. The men and women around him wore the gray tunics and dark trousers that was standard for all Si'Frant—only Pav in a sand colored robe stood out among them. With high cheekbones and a slightly olive tone to their skin, the Si'Frant normally appeared exotic and appealing, but now the entire collection looked sick and frail. Their dark eyes were sunken into their sockets, the gray tunics, normally taut over wiry muscles, hung baggy over weak frames, and their skin had lost its hue, leaving them ashen underneath the bleak Canor sky.

"How could this have happened?" a Si'Frant named Gil demanded. "The Eye of Thanos was our last chance."

"Before you left on your journey to Hyrule," another Si'Frant said, "you claimed the Knight of the Triforce was our last chance."

"Are you saying our death is because we could not Bond with the Knight?!" Gil shouted. "You thought without the holder of the Criv here to oversee, you could loosen your responsibly to the Si'Frant people?"

"I have lain over two hundred of our kind to rest!" the same Si'Frant, Yin, said taking a threatening step toward Gil. "Was I to let their bones wash away in the sands while those that still lived stood watch over a _rock_?"

"That rock could have saved us." Gil dropped into a combat stance, readying himself for an attack.

"Stop this!" Verr, a Si'Frant that had accompanied Gil and Pav to Hyrule, placed herself between the two men. "Are we to turn on each other like jackals fighting for the last scrap of kill?" She held her hands out in a pleading gesture to the crowd. "The Knight of the Triforce was nothing like we thought. He refused our offer of bondship on matter of moral principle and—"

"He just wants us dead," someone from the crowd interrupted. Several others muttered agreements.

"No, no," Verr implored. "He believed that we have the power to control our own destinies, no matter what the present course or past crimes. He told us to live for ourselves, even if we are to die tomorrow. The moment is more important than the possible future, can't you see that?"

Silence swept through the ranks of Si'Frant. They considered the words, weighed the meaning, and then... "I say we use what time we have left to track down the thief that stole the Eye," Yin said, thrusting his fist in the air.

"On that," Gil said, "we agree."

A cheer went up and the throng of Si'Frant broke apart to ready supplies needed for the search. Si'Frants walked pass Verr without seeing her; their eyes filled with the lust for vengeance. Without the Bond to the Si'Ra they would die, and they had committed themselves to a sinful path of self-pity and hatred because of that fact.

Within minutes, the clearing was empty save for Verr and Pav. "You should have said something," she told her teacher. "They would have listened to the holder of the Criv."

"No, they would not have," Pav said. "This is how the Si'Frant shall die: lost in the hopeless pursuit of vengeance. We were born of war and shall now die upon its roots."

"There is always hope," Verr said. "That is what the Knight said."

Pav slowly shook his head. "Once we were great. We were the servants of gods, but now we are just a riotous mob. There is no reasoning with a mob, Verr."

"I will not give up the fight!" Verr said, balling her fists. "The Knight of the Triforce commanded us to fight for freedom, and I will do that to the moment of my death. I swear on the memories of the Si'Ra...and the dead Knights of the Triforce." With one last fire-filled glare at Pav, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

Pav listened as her footfalls faded. He drove the halberd into the ground and used it to pull himself to his feet. He smiled at the foolishness of youth. Perhaps there was hope for his star pupil....

* * *

A little before dawn, Zelda found Link in a small, windowless room of the palace not far from the stables. It had been a hectic night of readying supplies, copying maps, and quick good-byes. No one had had any sleep, least of all Zelda. She'd spent the past few hours with Impa and the library caretakers scrounging the texts for any information they could send Link off with about the Wasteland of Canor or Thanos. Zelda wished she had more time to find the information; it would be hard to contact Link when he was traveling. Carrier birds and other modes of postal service reached even to the small communities at the border to the Wasteland of Canor, but she doubted he would have time to read long letters.

She paused in the entranceway to the tiny stone room and watched the Knight as he moved through a well practiced, if somewhat morose, routine to ready himself for a dangerous journey. He stood over an old wooden table with a leather pack open in front of him. Into the pack he stuffed a compass, bags of dried fruits and meats, a neatly folded cloak, spare watersacks, and a map that still carried the pungent scent of fresh ink.

Clad in brown trousers, high boots, and a green tunic, he was just as he'd been the day Zelda first met him. No, she realized, now maturity marked his face and balanced his stance. He had learned hard lessons that showed in his ageless eyes. The boy that had so bravely and brazenly crept past her guards had grown into a man that knew the importance of patience and the price of doubt.

His constant companion, the Master Sword rested against his right hip. On his left was a tightly cinched leather pouch. As he moved, Zelda caught sight of several other smaller pouches tucked into his belt. His hookshot hung on a strap from his belt and bounced against his leg with every step.

A single candle lit the small room and cast flickering shadows into every corner and crevice. The air was warm and stuffy. Zelda felt now that it was a mistake to be here. She just wanted away.

"It's good we no longer have these little good-bye scenes in front of the palace staff," Link said without turning to look at her. "Wouldn't you agree, princess?"

Zelda jumped in spite of herself. She wondered just how keen the instincts of a hunter were in him. How long had he let her so blatantly spy on him?

"We always seem to do better when it's just us," she agreed, walking into the tiny room. "In more ways than one."

Link sighed and turned. "You're angry."

"I'm not angry," Zelda said. "I'm...perplexed."

"Oh?" He leaned against the table and waited for her to continue.

Zelda opened her mouth and then closed it without uttering a word. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts and said, "Why are you really doing this, Link?"

"I thought we decided that in the library," he said. "Duncan has to be found before he discovers the Eye of Thanos. Once I'm with him, I'll find out what he wants with the Eye and stop him if necessary. Though I can't believe he would knowingly use such power for malevolent purposes."

"You seem eager, almost happy, to leave."

"I'm eager to find the Eye before it falls into wrong hands," he said neutrally. "But I'm never happy to leave the palace."

'You were once,' Zelda thought but changed the subject by saying: "Then you believe the Eye can do what that book said?"

"I do. Don't you?"

She took another step closer to him. "I've been thinking about other things this evening."

Link smiled slowly and pushed away from the table. He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at an easy distance. "You want to go with," he said, amused. "All of this brooding is masking an overwhelming wish to come with me."

"I have not been brooding," she said. "And I don't want to go to Canor. I want you to stay here until we know Duncan's destination. We have many resources here at the castle that have yet to be explored."

"I have no doubt you will find a way to get any new information to me," Link said. He seemed to think about something for a moment, his eyes gazed distantly with thought, and then he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Still perplexed?" he muttered.

"More so than ever," she answered honestly. This was how her interaction with Link had been like since returning from Calatia to unseat Jarod and prevent the Si'Ra from returning to the land of the living. A step back to the personal withdrawal that plagued them since he left the palace after removing her sleeping curse, and then a shuffle forward to the place they were heading while on the run from Jarod. It was an unbreakable pattern. Once it was she that had pulled away out of emotional conflict, but now it was Link who drew back after every shuffle forward. That along with his uncharacteristic self-doubt after the Si'Frant incident concerned Zelda. It gave her even more reason to hate the Si'Frant—devastation seemed to follow those people like a plague.

At times she felt as though it would have been better had they stayed in Calatia. Only the images of the distant past Jarod shared with her kept those thoughts from gaining dominance. If Link felt the same way about their time spent in Calatia, he wasn't about to say—at least not to her.

On impulse, Zelda gripped his tunic and pulled him down into a kiss. He didn't pull back, but didn't surrender completely either. She moaned against his mouth and pressed insistently against him.

The sound of footfalls against the stone floor in the corridor behind her entered Zelda's awareness. Link heard it first and reacted by breaking contact and stepping back.

"Zelda." Impa's voice held no surprise or reproval. "I need to speak with Link privately."

"Of course," Zelda said, wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned her gaze to the floor and felt her face heat when she passed Impa.

* * *

The Sheikah watched with a disapproving frown as Zelda left the storage room.

Link cleared his throat and forced the fog to lift from his mind. Zelda certainly wasn't going to make leaving the palace easy this time. How could he make her understand what would happen if the Knights continued? "You needed something, Impa?"

Impa watched him guardedly for a long moment before speaking. "What happened after you returned to Hyrule?" she asked.

"With Jarod?"

"You're not a stupid man, Link," she said with surprising venom. "Don't pretend to be one."

"Okay." The Knight of the Triforce straightened and met the Sheikah's dark gaze with one of his own. "I fought with Jarod's Si'Frant, Vox, while Zelda faced the Si'Ra in the old tower chamber."

"Did you kill them?" she asked.

"I killed Vox," he said. "But Zelda managed to imprison Jarod in the underworld."

"And then?"

"There is no 'and then'," he said. "Jarod's gone, Vox and the Si'Frant are dead; it's over, Impa."

"It's never over," she said with a sigh. "Tell me what happened between you and Zelda."

"What do you mean?"

"You're looking stupid again, Link."

He ran his hand back through his hair. "I don't see why it is any of your concern what happened between me and Zelda while you were away," he said.

"You really don't know, do you?" Impa asked. "You haven't a single clue how dangerous all of this could become."

"What?" he demanded. "I've been living here at the palace for the past three years. What could I possibly have done that could be so dangerous? Stop cloaking yourself in secrets and lies and start telling me the truth."

"How long has it been since you and Zelda visited the Triforce?" Impa asked, ignoring his plea

"About six months," he said. "Maybe a little longer." During the Si'Frants' visit to Hyrule, Link had supplicated the Triforce for help in freeing the Si'Frant.

"Did it mention anything about prophecy or a path of sins?"

Link thought back. He'd been occupied with the Si'Frant and hadn't listened to anything unrelated to them. "It might have," he said cautiously. "Why?"

"Duncan and I sent you and Zelda back to Hyrule three years ago thinking that either she or you would die," Impa told him bluntly. "I believed it would be you and he thought it would be Zelda. Apparently we were both wrong," she added wryly.

Link half sat, half fell against the edge of the table. "_What_?"

Impa nodded. "The prophecy that foretold of the Si'Ra returning divided three ways in the end. You died and Zelda lived down one path; Zelda died while you lived down another; and you both lived down the final path."

"How could you sacrifice Zelda so easily?" he demanded. "You _urged_ Zelda to come with me! How could you?"

"I knew the Si'Ra would win without Zelda there to do as the prophecy required," Impa replied calmly. "Would you have had me tell her the true danger and risk that occupying her thoughts during a critical moment?"

"I would have you protect her as King Harkinian ordered," Link said. "I had felt safe about leaving Zelda with you, but now I'm not sure about your intentions."

Impa blinked, watching his anger with resolute composure. "Do you believe Zelda would have been safe in a world ruled by the Si'Ra?" she asked. "I make my choices out of need. I truly wish that fact could be different, but I must do my best with what I have available to me."

Link shook his head. "If you can't win by the rules of the game, Impa, you make new rules."

"Someday, Knight, you shall know foolishness of that statement." The Sheikah paused. "Do you wish to hear the rest of the prediction?"

"Yes. How bad is it for us?" he asked.

"Fine for Zelda," Impa said with genuine sincerity, "but not for you. It said the final Knight of the Triforce would face a choice, he would choose wrong, and his path thereafter would become a path of sins—a life devoid of peace and love. I'm sorry, Link. Duncan felt confident that when the time came, you would change the prediction and choose correctly."

Link swallowed past a dry throat. "Did it say what this choice would entail?"

"No. If you are asking if this voyage to Canor could be the choice, then my answer is it may or it may not. I am not a prophet, and such interpretation is beyond my power."

Link looked up and again met her gaze; he now found compassion in her eyes. "But you have an opinion." It was not a question.

"Every prophecy I have read about you also involves Zelda," Impa said. "It stands to reason that she would be the source of the choice, or at least affected by it."

"Well, your behavior makes a lot more sense," Link said dryly. He thought for a moment before speaking again. "I can't worry about this now. I have to find Duncan, find the Eye of Thanos, and put a stop to whatever is happening in Calbor. Then I can focus on predictions of the future."

"I know you don't like prophecy, Link," Impa said. "But you must not ignore this."

"I won't," he promised. "But I do think you're wrong about Zelda being involved."

She raised a brow skeptically. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I think the choice has already been made," he said and started for the entranceway.

"Wait!" The Sheikah followed him. "I can help you. Tell me what happened that you believe was the choice."

The Knight stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. His expression mirrored her impassive countenance. "Secrets and lies, Impa; you reap what you sow. If you or Duncan told me about this while Zelda and I were in Calatia, things might have been very different." With that, he left her in the small storeroom.

* * *

'Why can't those bloody nightbugs be quiet?' Zelda wondered as she walked across the inner courtyard of Hyrule Castle. It was near dawn but the crickets and junebugs were chirping for all they were worth. Normally the Princess enjoyed listening to the sounds of the summer night, but tonight Link and the Eye of Thanos occupied her thoughts and the cricket sounds were too pleasant for her mood.

The moon had already set, but soldiers and members of the palace staff illuminated the courtyard with torches and lamps. They had turned out to wish Link a save journey.

In the center of the throng of servants and palace guards was a fully saddled Epona. Even after enduring a journey lasting several months with Impa, the mare seemed quite anxious to return to the road. Ironically, she would be returning to the same country she'd just left.

Link suddenly appeared in the open doorway of the palace. He paused and took in the sight of the members of the staff gathered to wish him well. Shouldering his pack, he took the steps two at a time and started for Epona and Zelda once he reached the ground landing.

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, but Link moved forward and cut her off by enveloping her in a tight embrace. "Be on your guard while I'm away, princess," he said soft enough for only her ears. "Impa knows things about prophecies that involve us and she isn't in a sharing mood. Tread carefully around her."

"What?" Zelda wanted to ask more, but he pulled away and secured his pack behind Epona's saddle.

Link hooked his foot in a stirrup and swung easily onto the chestnut mare's back. Epona danced eagerly from side to side and gave a snort of impatience. Gathering the reins, he turned slightly in the saddle. "Remember what I told you," Link said.

A hundred questions gathered on the tip of Zelda's tongue. She wanted to ask what Impa said to him, what he said to her, but all she could manage was: "I will. Be safe."

Link nodded. "I always am, Zelda. Glenn?"

The Captain of the Hylian Guard stepped forward from the throng of well-wishers. "She'll be safe, Link," he said, answering the unspoken question. "Farewell."

Link nodded and readied to leave.

"Wait!" a voice called from the palace. All eyes turned to see Impa making her way toward the center of the torchlight. "I have something for you, Link."

The Knight of the Triforce raised his brows in surprise. "Really, Impa?"

Impa stopped beside him and reached into a pocket of her brown robe. She withdrew an ornate silver flask with a small hinge securing a gold stopper. "I bought this at one of the shops near the Tower of Magic during my return trip," she said, offering it to him. "The witch woman that sold it to me said it was the most powerful healing potion she made. I was incorrect in thinking I would need it, but perhaps it will aid you."

Link reached down and took the flask. "Thank you, Impa. It shall never leave my side."

Impa padded his booted foot and stepped back.

Link gave final salute to the entire staff gathered in the courtyard and then tapped Epona's sides with his heels. The mare neighed with relief and sprang forward. She gathered speed and passed the watchgate in a blink. Soldiers on watch shouted words of encouragement as the Knight passed.

Zelda drew a deep breath and released it slowly. She knew without question that it would be a long time before she saw the wayward hero of Hyrule again, and, when she did, things between them would be very different.

"I love you, Link," she whispered to the figure already swallowed by the shadows fleeing the oncoming dawn.


	7. Interlude One

****

Interlude One

__

Forty years before...

The squad of wizards arrived silently and without fanfare. They stepped from nothingness and seemed to draw their forms from the shadows cast by the late day sun. There were four, Duncan saw; three wrapped in brown robes and one in black. Age was impossible to determine in magic users, but two of the brown clad wizards seemed less sure of themselves and out of place beside the other two. They stood close to each other and watched the encampment with timid gazes—apprentices, Duncan assumed.

The aura of unchallenged power surrounding the four spell casters easily diminished the awesome might of two hundred soldiers. There was no doubt the wizards were in charge far below the roof of the monastery. A Calatia soldier clad in heavy mail and the blazonry of an officer pushed through the throng of men to reach the wizards' position.

Duncan didn't wait to see more. Springing to his feet, he ran through the archway leading down into the monastery. The echo of his boot clops rang through the empty halls of the house of worship. He could feel his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage with every step.

This was going to be his day of death. Even after a year of coming to terms with the fact the Tower's wizards were going to torture and murder him, the actual moment was still overwhelmingly frightening.

The monastery was old and dank. Mold grew in twisted patterns on the stone walls and mortar had chipped from ages of neglect and now lined the hard floor like a perverse version of snowfall. It seemed wrong to him that such a place would become the tomb for a child of privilege.

Duncan ran on, spurred by the knowledge that the wizards were bearing down on him. The combined skills of his friends were no match for a fully trained wizard, least of all two plus apprentices, he knew. Running back to them, however, was the only thing he could do. They had started this affair together, and they would end it together.

To form a more suitable area for casting spells, his accomplices had transformed the dining hall of the monastery: it was now empty of all furniture save for a heavy oak table extender that was now in the center of the room and used as an altar. A half-moon shaped pit was carved into the stone floor and encircled the makeshift tabernacle. Magically lit fire hissed and popped in the pit. They had hoped to finish a powerful spell before the representatives arrived that even the best wizards at the Tower could not undo, but there was no longer enough time. The wizard squad was here and the spell was still incomplete.

Duncan's three partners in crime: Givoi, Vinart, and Calso stood within the glow of the dancing flames. All had their hands extended and currents of magic flowing around them, but only Calso was speaking. Her normally soft and fair voice was gruff and harsh as her tongue struggled to form words of Old Hylian.

Of the three, only Givoi wore black robes in place of the Tower's brown standard. Even Duncan, who lacked a field of magic specialty, wore the stock brown. Givoi's attire was different for before leaving the Tower he'd been an apprentice in the necromancers' enclave. His magic, like the required garments, was different from what the others practiced.

Duncan came to a halt at the edge of the flame pit. He only then became aware of the sacrifice on the altar. It might at one time been a rat or perhaps a wild cat, but now its blood and viscera were smeared across the altar. Above the remains was the book of magic they stole; bloody fingerprints marked where Calso had turned pages.

"The wizards are here," Duncan said without preamble. "There's no time to finish."

"We only need a few minutes," Vinart said. "Maybe half an hour. Givoi, take Duncan and stall them."

"Stall them?!" Duncan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Were they forgetting all that a fully trained wizard could do to them?

"You'll have your time, Calso," Givoi said, drawing his dark robes about him and walking away from the other spell casters. "Come, old friend."

Duncan numbly fell in step behind the young necromancer. His throat was dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his mind spun with the enormity of what they were about to do. They were going to challenge two fully trained wizards in combat. Fighting between wizards was not a common occurrence, and the wizards were probably not expecting a duel, but that didn't lessen the frightfulness of the confrontation. 

"What are you going to do?" he asked as Givoi walked purposeful from the dining hall.

"I'm going to buy time," he said cryptically.

Duncan shook his head. "No kill spells, Givoi," he warned. "Please don't try to kill them."

Givoi turned to him; his dark eyes glazed over with magic. "I'll do only what they force me to do," he said.

"No," Duncan said insistently. "I don't want people killed. I never intended for people to be hurt."

The young necromancer gripped Duncan's shoulders in a fierce hold that was at once brotherly and adversarial. "It's too late to worry about the people from the Tower," he said. The fact he refused to use the proper appellation was not lost on Duncan. "They will kill us without a second thought to get that book back. They know what we can do with it. They're afraid of the power we possess...the power they can no longer touch.

"Do you think Thanos would have been afraid of injuring someone? No! He killed his own teacher when the people from the Tower tried to hold him back. Be your idol, my friend."

Insanity danced alongside magic in Givoi's eyes. The man that had been Duncan's friend since the first day of initiation at the Tower of Magic was completely mad. Guilt edged out fear in Duncan when he realized that the book he stole had done this to his friend.

He nodded and said, "All right. But don't provoke anything; let me try talking." His teachers had always said he had rare gifts of tongue and sight. Perhaps he could buy Calso the time she needed to complete the spell by negotiating with the representatives.

And then they felt it. A ripple at the edge of awareness that marked the completion of a teleport spell. Duncan and Givoi felt one wizard arrive...another...another...and finally a fourth. The wizards were in the monastery.

"Come on." Duncan led Givoi down the corridor to the front assembly.

The monastery was an ancient complex made up of four levels. Its ground level consisted of a front assembly hall, a chapel, kitchen, and dining area while the second and third levels were the long abandoned cobbling and stitchery stores. The monks that used to inhabit this cloister funded their order by selling cloth, leather shoes, and any baked goods the kitchen could produce. At the top of the old building were the monks' sleeping chambers. Duncan shuddered at the thought of how cold those upper levels would be once wintertime was at its fullest.

The assembly was a long chamber designed simply. Tattered tapestries depicting various religious affirmations hung as silent reminder that this at one time had been a place of peace, and a wooden chandelier hung precariously above the center of the room.

Duncan paused at the mouth of the corridor and peered around the corner to the assembly. Directly underneath the chandelier stood four wizards. All were tall and lean and held themselves with the unmistakable air of power and authority. 

One of the fully trained wizards bore the geometric symbols of a conjurer on the border of his robe, the most basically gifted of all the guilds, and the other wore the dark colors of the necromancers. The conjurer was blond with fine lines just starting to appear around his cold blue eyes and thin mouth. Pouches and charms dangled from his robe's sash. The necromancer was tall, towering over all the other wizards by more than a foot, and carried no visible appurtenances save for a hook-tipped dagger used for sacrifices. Shades of gray were just beginning to appear at the temples of his dark hair. He surveyed the room with an unyielding, concentrated gaze.

Duncan knew at once that this necromancer was the leader of the squad, and, without doubt, one of the ruling members of the enclave—perhaps of the Tower, too.

"Hear me, thieves!" the necromancer roared, his voice echoing throughout every chamber and hall in the monastery. "Your flight has ended. Present yourselves and the book to me!"

Duncan waved Givoi back and edged closer to the doorway. "I wish to negotiate," he called.

The necromancer turned toward the corridor that shielded Duncan and Givoi. An unpleasant smile spread slowly across his face. "Ah, Duncan. You I remember. I remember your interest in my order."

Duncan rubbed his sweaty palms against his trousers. "I wish to negotiate," he said again, less sure this time.

"There will be no negotiations, initiate," the necromancer said. Duncan remembered that the head of the dark enclave was named Ossie. "Surrender the book to me and you shall not be injured."

"I want some assurance of that!" Duncan said. "I want—"

Ossie took a sudden step forward and the shadows throughout the room seemed to turn to follow him. "Come to me," he commanded. The words echoed and the entire monastery quaked with their power...

"Duncan, no!" With a start, Duncan became aware of Givoi's hand on his arm. Both he and the young necromancer were standing several paces away from of the archway that had protected them from view. The wizards and apprentices were grinning at his confusion. It struck Duncan then what Ossie had done: he'd cast a charm over the order to come to him. And Duncan had fallen for it completely. Light, how were they to defeat these wizards?

Duncan nodded gratefully to his friend and turned to face Ossie. "I want your promise of protection for my friends," he said. "An oath bound by magic."

Ossie shook his head. "I need not give any of you protection or promises. You are in no position to negotiate; we hold the authority here. For the final time, surrender the book and yourselves to me now."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Givoi said coming forward. "Step aside, Duncan."

"No!" Duncan cried, but he could already see the magic beginning to swirl around Givoi.

"Stand down, my young pupil," Ossie said, amused. "Parlor tricks will not best me."

"Just try me!" Givoi lunged forward, his hands clawing at the air as though pulling something to him. The space between him and the group of wizards suddenly ignited with a loud swoosh. Fire, yellow and hot, enveloped the wizards.

Duncan turned away from the rolling heat. 

After what felt like hours, the flames died and unbearable silence replaced the roar. Givoi watched with a hopeful expression as the room cleared of smoke.

Standing completely untouched underneath the burned remains of the chandelier were the wizards. Ossie smiled. "Parlor tricks, boy." Moving faster than the eye could follow, the necromancer waved his hand toward Givoi, lifted the trainee into the air with unseen hands, and threw him against the rear of the assembly.

Duncan heard his friend mutter several words in Old Hylian and saw his acceleration slow considerably before he hit the wall. Givoi dropped to his feet and again thrust his hands toward the head wizard. Lightning sprang from his fingers and shot across the room to the necromancer.

Ossie, showing no signs of strain, raised his hands with the reflexes of a fully trained wizard and held them palm outward. The lightning vanished three feet from Ossie's out turned hands.

Confusion and anger twisted Givoi's face. He screamed and the floorboards suddenly exploded upward around the wizards.

Duncan backpedaled, doing his best to avoid the crossfire. The wizards, moving with magically enhanced speed, stepped away from the center of the room and took up positions along the walls. Ossie and an apprentice with light, thinning hair moved to the right wall while the conjurer and second apprentice went left. The former group was closest to Duncan.

Givoi continued to cast random destruction while the wizards and their students began building a wall of defense. Clusters of barely visible magic, like ripples underneath reality itself, filled the assembly end to end. The front hall—to Duncan's eyes, at least—became a cascade of spells, counterspells, hexes, and dispels. Lightning, white and blue in color, flashed from both sides of the chamber.

Duncan ducked and retreated to the corridor leading deeper into the monastery. He crouched in the archway and peered out at the heated duel. Givoi was losing, he could easily see; the knots of shimmering magic that the young necromancer was using to repel the wizards' attacks were beginning to lose texture; his attacks were becoming less focused and more random; and he was beginning to show signs of physical strain. His power was no match for the combined strength of the wizards and apprentices.

Blinding light flared across the ceiling of the front hall and beams were pulled from the walls and roof. Air whistled around the planks of wood as invisible hands swung them like clubs at the wizards. The apprentices stepped way from the edges of the room, extended their hands toward the beams, and launched blue bolts from their fingertips at the makeshift clubs. The bolts crisscrossed each other and shattered the beams like eggshells.

That cudgel attack alone seemed to draw much of Givoi's remaining strength. His shoulders slumped and the shields of shimmering magic inched closer to him, robbing much of his breathing space. The necromancer and conjurer began moving toward the rear of the assembly.

Duncan couldn't let this happen. He had to do something to give Givoi a chance to formulate a new offence. With a cold sweat beading on his brow, Duncan stepped from the safety of the archway and reached out with his gift of magical understanding. He was not a wizard or spell caster, but the Tower had uncovered an ability within him that allowed him to see and interpret magic. He would now use that gift to defend Givoi's life.

Awareness blossomed in Duncan's mind. The barely visible cords of magic became more sharply defined and he could now see faint tendrils of will that connected spell and wizard. He reached out with his mind and slowly, one by one, began to unravel the knots that tied those tendrils to the spells.

The effect was immediate: balls of blue flame racing toward the back end of the assembly fell apart short of their target, leaving long tracks of fire burning the wooden floor; crackling lightning dissipated after leaving the fingers of the wizards; and the wash of magic battering Givoi's shields faded until only the shimmering magic remained.

The wizards, thinking Givoi had dispelled their magic, doubled their attack. Even more magic and spells than before flew toward the young necromancer.

Duncan worked until his body trembled with exhaustion. Sweat dripped like teardrops from his face as he struggled to keep his focus. The magic was unimaginably fast; Duncan wished he'd had the foresight to have Givoi or Vinart cast a hastening spell over him before confronting Ossie and his comrades. He wasn't able to stop all of the spells, but those that did make it to the rear of the assembly were no longer powerful enough to punch through Givoi's defensive screen. 

Baron, the conjurer, cast a yellow ripple from his hand that shot toward the cornered necromancer. Duncan didn't recognize the spell, but knew instinctively that it was powerful enough to demand his full concentration. He dropped his other dispels and turned his gift on that yellow blur. The spell traveled across the hall in the space of a heartbeat; Duncan had just that time to read the intricate knots of the spell and pull them apart.

One knot came undone...a second...a third...The spell was beginning to lose power. As his mind found the fourth and final string, something else entered his awareness and demanded attention.

A sixth sense, groomed by his teachers at the Tower of Magic, was the only thing that saved Duncan from experiencing the full blast from the apprentice standing behind the necromancer. He abandoned the dispel effort and jumped toward the safety of the archway.

His body made it clear of the apprentice's blast, but his right leg wasn't so lucky. Pain exploded in his knee and traveled to his toes. Duncan hit the corridor's entrance hard and slid across assembly's floor, but the pain in his leg was so intense he didn't feel the impact. It felt as though the bone had shattered and every muscle tightened to stone. His vision whited out; he was blind and alone with the pain.

He kicked and clawed at the floor wildly. He wanted to get away, to escape the body that had turned against him so violently. Gritting his teeth and calling on everything the master spell casters at the Tower had taught him, Duncan probed his leg with his gift. He thought his leg severed for a long instant of stomach knotting terror, but then found the cords of magic wound through tissue and muscle. It was a simple harm spell, but constructed with the care of one familiar with the craft of magic. That apprentice had the teeth of a powerful wizard.

For what felt like hours but were probably only seconds, Duncan untied the magic around his leg and cast it out of his body. The pain receded and his vision cleared. A dull ache remained, but it was manageable.

Duncan rolled onto his back and took in the scene. The wizards and apprentices had turned their backs on him, obviously believing he was no longer a threat—if he'd ever been one. Either the conjurer's yellow bolt or another spell had destroyed Givoi's shields and the half-trained necromancer was again chanting, trying desperately to out cast the wizards and apprentices.

A green glow appeared underneath Givoi's tightly clasped hands. The other spell casters save for Ossie reacted with surprise and brought shields of their own to bear. Duncan frowned; he didn't understand their sudden concern.

"_Vi'no'gi, vi'no'gi_," Givoi intoned, then threw open his hand and cast a ball of deep green at his former teacher. The ball of magical energy screamed with the voices of hundreds of forgotten souls. The sound was deafening and horrible. It was the cry of death's own vengeance. In that instant, Duncan knew what his long time friend had done. He also knew that he didn't have enough time or energy left to dispel such powerful sorcery.

Givoi had cast a death spell.

The conjurer and apprentices guarded themselves behind thick shields of simmering magic, but Ossie stood unprotected right in the path of the green bolt. He showed no reaction, no fear, and no sign of readying magic to deflect the spell.

When the bolt was a just pace away, Ossie spun with a wizard's speed. The death spell hit the shoulder of his dark robe but there was no impact; the spell amazingly rolled down the necromancer's sleeve and he moved. Ossie completed his spin and held his arm out toward Givoi. The death spell rolled off the sorcerer's body and howled back toward its caster.

How Necromancer Ossie managed such a feat, Duncan would never know. He watched in horror as the death spell raced back the way it came and slammed into Givoi. The force of the blow lifted Givoi from his feet and hurled him backward. He hit the wall with a sickening crunch. The young necromancer never had time or the skill to formulate a defense.

Givoi's eyes, already wide with pain, glowed with an inner green light. The front of his robe where the bolt had struck curled inward as though being burned by internal fire. Gray ash blew away as he dropped to the ground. Somehow the dying spell caster managed to stay on his feet. He held out his hands and began chanting. His voice was thick with anguish and magic.

Ossie stepped forward and smiled at the plight of his former student. At that grin, Duncan felt a flash of rage. But then, with sudden understanding, he saw something in Ossie's gaze he'd never before seen: pride. There was unmistakable pride in what Givoi was doing, of the spell he was using his final breath to cast.

With his eyes closed and his attention turned inward, Givoi seemed unaware of the gift of praise offered by the old sorcerer. "_No'gi Tage'bi_!" With the utterance of those words, black lightning began crackling between the fingers of his extended hands.

Duncan's eyes went wide. Givoi was doing as necromancers had done since the shadowy art was discovered in the early days of life: he was drawing upon the very power that was snuffing out his life force. True to his gift for dark magic, he was weaving his own death into one last spell. That was the source of Ossie's pride. In that instant, Givoi ceased to be an initiate and passed his final test in becoming a wizard of the dark ways. He would die a full sorcerer.

"Take cover!" Ossie called to his fellow wizards. Shields again formed around the conjurer and apprentices. Duncan saw the cords of magic holding the screens in place tie together as the conjurer led the initiates in strengthening the fortifications. Ossie again remained unprotected by shields. He would face whatever Givoi was planning alone.

Givoi pushed away from the wall and stumbled forward. "Feel my true power, pedagogue! _Novi Sigon_!" Lightning, cold and black, erupted from his spread fingers.

Magic danced around Ossie, but the cords moved too fast for Duncan to read the configuration. In a blur of magically enhanced speed, Ossie squared his stance and brought his arms up in front of his face. The dark lightning hit his forearms and fractured. Fingers of crackling energy surrounded the lone sorcerer; shot upward, shattering support beams and punching through the ceiling; and hit the shimmering shields around the remaining spell casters and rebounded about the entire front hall.

Duncan ducked as bolts tore through the stonework above his head. He brought his arms up and covered his head. A loud screech filled the hall as the power of death itself was unleashed. Scree and pulverized mortar rained down from the stone fixtures. Wood beams splintered and fell to the floor with bone-rattling thumps.

A more disturbing sound suddenly overwhelmed the cry of lightning: the awful rumble of stone sliding against stone. The assembly of the monastery, a chamber that survived decades of abandonment, had finally reached its breaking point. It had endured much today, and could no longer tolerate anymore punishment.

The first to go was the wall farthest away from Duncan. The support structures along the bottom of the wall cracked and finally shattered like glass. The wall caved in and the ceiling at that end of the hall quickly followed suit. Duncan caught sight of daylight before a cloud of dust and mortar swelled up and rushed into the chamber.

Givoi gave one last desperate lunge forward and emptied the last of his power into the spell. He went to his knees, glanced at Duncan, and crumpled in a heap of dark robes. The tail of his attack battered against Ossie's arms and managed to knock the necromancer backward with its final lash. Shields around the conjurer and apprentices flashed brightly as the mighty sorcerer fell against them. That was the last Duncan saw of Necromancer Ossie before the quickly expanding fog of destruction overtook him and his comrades.

Duncan rolled onto his stomach and began crawling toward the safety of the corridor. He had a hard time believing he was still alive after all that. He reached the mouth of the corridor and lay gasping for breath.

His respite was short lived, however. A single crack appeared in the corridor ceiling and quickly ran the length of the hall. Rumbling reverberated throughout the passageway.

Duncan scrambled to his feet and stumbled deeper into the monastery. He had to get back to the dining area. But even as he ran, Duncan knew he would never make it. The sounds of a winter's thaw echoed around him and cracks in the walls and ceiling raced past him. With one final gut-wrenching groan, the hall gave way.

Duncan screamed and fell to his knees as heavy stones struck his back. Blackness blotted out the hall and the sound of stones slamming against stones enveloped his cry. The corridor caved in around him and there was nowhere to go and no one to help him. Duncan felt a brief flash of pain and then merciful darkness swallowed everything.


	8. Chapter Six

****

Chapter Six

__

Now...

In her nearly thirty years in service of the crown, Impa had been witness to many grand spectacles in the throne room of Hyrule Castle. She had witnessed great decisions that resulted in peace and in war. She had seen a king sit tall upon his throne and bring justice to the unjust. She'd watched the balance of power switch from light to dark and back again with equal sureness. But she'd never seen the throne room as it was now before her.

Books were stacked six and seven high on the arms of the throne; maps as long as most men are tall were spread out across the marble floor, more books were piled at the corners of each map, holding them in place; and library caretakers, distinguishable by their white robes and skullcaps, roamed the great room and spoke to each other in Old Hylian. Throughout it all, the thick musty smell of ancient knowledge hung heavy in the air.

Picking her way carefully around the books and maps, Impa found Zelda kneeling near the dais, one hand marking her place in an old tome and the other tracing the border of the Wasteland of Canor on a map.

"Any progress?" Impa asked, crouching so she was not standing higher than the princess.

For a moment Zelda did not seem to hear her, then she turned her head and regarded the aging nanny. "Not as much as I would have liked," she said.

"It has not been that long," Impa said. "With patience we shall find what we seek."

"Link left two weeks ago," Zelda said, frustration straining her voice, "and we are no closer to knowing what Duncan might wish to do with this Eye of Thanos."

Impa reached to rub Zelda's shoulder, but, Zelda, unaware of the attempt to comfort, leaned forward to better see the fine print on the map. Impa pulled her hand back and bit back a sigh of weariness. Her fatigue was not from the search for information, but from the state of her guardianship over the princess and fate of Hyrule.

Her job was much simpler three decades ago when the only problems and threats she had to deal with came from the outside. Now she had to manage both internal and external concerns. Zelda was a grown woman and inheritor of the throne of Hyrule, but still needed the close guidance of the Sheikah. Link had grown well into his power and authority, but lacked the discipline and focus needed if he was ever to restore the Knights of the Triforce—and he would do that someday, Impa would see to it.

In Impa's opinion, Link and Zelda were approaching the edge of a chasm and neither seemed to care. Link had finally shown some insight by realizing how much harm his destiny could do to Zelda, but now he had taken one step too many and decided to let the legacy of the Knights die with him. Impa could not let that happen; she didn't share his optimistic view of the people being able to care for themselves.

There was still so much work for her to do. It was so simple when King Harkinian was alive.

"What new information have you discovered?" Impa asked.

Zelda shook her head. "Nothing new. I still have no idea where Thanos' palace is located." She closed the book and set it aside. "Even if these maps did record the palace, they are centuries old and the residence could have been destroyed by nature long ago."

"What about Thanos himself?"

Zelda gave a weary sigh and rubbed her eyes. "He was a sorcerer—a necromancer—that lived approximately two thousand years ago." She spoke with the dry tone of one reciting from memory. "He built a grand palace in what we now call the Wasteland of Canor and from there ruled all of Canor and most of northern Calatia.

"He was a recluse and an inventor; several death spells and wand techniques are credited to him. He claimed that all of Canor was loyal to him, even the wildlife, which served as his eyes and ears throughout his domain.

"He was killed by a rival sorcerer fifteen hundred years ago, and since then Canor has been a barren wasteland. It is said the land still grieves for him." Zelda held her hands out in an open gesture. "But none of that is relevant to the Eye or Duncan."

"Perhaps"—Impa shrugged—"perhaps not. But it is a beginning, and now that you have begun, you can work toward the end."

Zelda looked over all the books, maps, and caretakers in the room and shook her head. "No, we won't," she said quietly. "There is no more information to be found here."

Impa frowned. "This castle is Hyrule's most comprehensive source of information; if there is nothing here then where could you—" She stopped with the realization of what Zelda had meant, of what she was asking.

Zelda turned her full focus on her former nanny. "I want to go to one of the Sheikah libraries, Impa."

Wide-eyed, Impa shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. The information kept in those sacred sites is dangerous and not to be played with."

"I am well aware of how dangerous knowledge can be when misused," Zelda said. "But Link needs this information, and I am willing to risk anything I have to in order to get it for him." She hardened her tone. "You took me to one of the libraries once when I was young, Impa, and I shall use the Triforce and the entire Hylian army to find it again if I must."

Impa drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Underneath that blue-eyed gaze, the same hard gaze King Harkinian used to have, Impa knew the young princess was not lying. "You, I, and a small detail of guards shall leave in the morning," the Sheikah said.

Zelda smiled and gave a nod of thanks. Impa did not return the smile or acknowledge the gratitude. She did not appreciate her former charge forcing her into handing away information that belonged solely with the Sheikah people.

High above them rain began pinging against the skylights and thunder rumbled in the distance. Another storm had arrived in Hyrule.

* * *

"Just a little bit farther, baby!" Link shouted over the clamor of rain. With one hand he held Epona's reins and with the other he held his cloak closed. Picking his way carefully over the rocky ground that was quickly becoming slick with mud, he led the mare up the steep incline of Death Mountain. Though he was still in the foothills of the grand elevation, cliffs and crags had long ago replaced the relatively flat, grassy lands of Hyrule Field.

Around him the rain fell in hard sheets. Natural waterfalls were quickly developing over the tall rock formations and pouring downward in fast moving channels. Mud and shards of rock flew in all directions where those waterfalls finally hit. Despite the growing darkness, Link pressed on, knowing that one of those cascades could easily flood a campsite. If he acted fast, he might survive a sudden rush of water, but Epona never would. He had to find shelter before the storm grew any worse.

Lightning flashed over head, followed seconds later by a clap of thunder that seemed to go straight through Link's bones. Epona gave a neigh of dismay. The mare was frightened, but years spent traveling had seasoned her enough to not run off when scared.

According to the palace maps, there were two ways into Canor from Hyrule. The most direct route was west and north to skirt the border of Calatia and enter just above the mountain range that rimmed the length of Hyrule's neighbor. That, however, would put Link in the most south and west area of Canor—far away from where Duncan had left Impa. There were, according to the maps, passages through the high country around Death Mountain that would place Link close to the eastern location where Impa had last seen Duncan—a much better place to start looking.

There would only be one obstacle in finding the mountain passages...

Shadows suddenly detached themselves from the rocks around Link and quickly took shape of a Goron hunting party. In a blink four male Gorons, easily nine feet in height, encircled Link and Epona. They held stone spears and axes at the ready. Epona gave a neigh of fear mixed with anger. Link, knowing better than to try fighting four male Gorons at once, raised his hands and shouted, "_Grrootha!_" If he remembered the Goron language correctly, that word should mean 'peace'.

The lead Goron hunter grunted in reply.

"Do you speak Hylian?" Link asked hopefully.

The Gorons gestured with their spears for him to walk forward.

"I guess not," Link said.

* * *

The hunting party led him farther up the incline to a series of small cave openings. Link saw thick black smoke rising from some of the openings and realized that those must be vents for underground cooking fires. He hoped that the party wasn't escorting him to one of those fires.

Over a time, Link became aware of more Gorons following him. Silently and as quick as a bat stalking a field mouse, six more male Gorons fell in step with him and Epona.

The party led the Knight to a tall stone structure that was part hut, part cave entrance. The smooth, well-sculpted granite rose impressively above even the tallest of his Goron escorts. From a distance, the stone structure might be mistaken as a natural formation, but up close Link could plainly see the care and craftsmanship that had gone into carving it. These hill people, like the Gorons near the summit of Death Mountain, were obviously quite gifted in masonry.

One of the Gorons nudged Link in the back with his spear, urging him into the structure. Behind him, Epona suddenly gave a started cry. The Knight looked back and saw a member of the hunting party pulling the mare into another cave entrance. She neighed and kicked at the Goron holding her reins.

"Easy, baby!" Link called. "Wait for me to get this sorted out. We'll be back on the trail before the rain stops." Responding to his voice, Epona ceased her fighting. Head held low, she let herself be herded into one of the smaller cave openings.

And then it was his turn. Urged forward by a Goron on either side, Link entered the large structure. The entranceway sloped downward sharply, leading to deep underground caverns. The chamber was suddenly quiet; the patter of rain was easily lost underneath the granite walls.

As he followed the sloping floor, Link slowly became aware of a lighted chamber ahead of him. The temperature gradually increased until sweat beaded on his brow. He had forgotten the Gorons' affinity for heat.

The narrow corridor evened out and opened to a large chamber. A bonfire blazed intensely in the center of the room and smaller fires were lit in brass cauldrons in the far corners, making the air stuffy and hard to breath. Standing in front of the tall fire was an equally massive Goron. Like his brothers around him, the large Goron had dark leathery skin, thick white mane and beard, and an exoskeleton akin to solid stone surrounding his spine. Unlike his brothers, however, age had bent this Goron. His eyes were heavy with maturity, but still looked at the world unhesitatingly and seemed to take in the whole room at once.

Link knew how to spot the leader of a group, and this large Goron was clearly the chieftain. He swallowed hard and stepped forward, pushing his hood back as he did so. "Greetings, Excellently," he said in his best imitation of Zelda's formal tone. "I am Link, Knight of the Triforce, and visitor in your land." He gave a short bow at the waist.

The large Goron turned his head slightly, his keen gaze never leaving Link, and asked something in the Goron tongue.

One of Link's escorts replied with three quick grunts.

"I am Groth," the elder Goron said in passable Hylian. "What is your business with us, Knight?"

Link gave a quick sigh of relief someone would be able to understand him. "I am simply a traveler," he said. "I did not mean to pass through your territory uninvited—my violation was completely unintentional."

One of the Goron hunters said something angry sounding. Link looked from Groth to the hunter, trying to read the meaning of the words in the reaction of the speaker. He did not like what he saw.

"Clim says you were found past two sentry groups," Groth said. "He says you could not have passed them unless you were purposely trying to sneak into our home."

Link worked moisture back into his mouth and thought hard. How could he convince them he hadn't meant to invade their territory without insulting the boundary wards? "It was not my intention to pass your guards," he said, trying to be diplomatic. "I am accustomed to moving about quietly, and with the sound of the storm, must have...just slipped by them." The excuse even sounded hollow to his ears. He decided to try another approach. "Perhaps I could prove my peaceful intention in some way...?"

Another round of guttural language passed between the hunters and Groth. Again, it sounded angry.

"Law demands retribution for your violation," the chieftain said.

Link nodded. "That's reasonable. I have rupees on me and I will pay whatever you deem as a fair price." He realized the foolishness of those words as soon as they left his mouth; Gorons saw no point in stones they could not eat.

"Your Hylian gems have no value here," Groth said, distaste coloring his deep tone. "To pay retribution, you must allow one of the wards you dishonored to challenge you in kilfa."

Link had no idea what kilfa was, but he had a strong suspicion that the alternative was worse. "I accept the challenge," he said.


	9. Chapter Seven

****

Chapter Seven

Lightning flashed in the distance but the sound of thunder did not follow. Somewhere, far away, it was storming. Verr watched the fulgurations from the safety of her watch point near the Si'Frants' camp. A quick scan of the sandy flatland of Canor, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction, assured her that there were no trespassers nearby.

'Fight to live, not just to exist,' the words she heard so many months ago echoed in her mind. Verr glanced at the camp several yards away, and then turned back to the storm. What the Si'Frant were doing now disgusted her. Their single-minded mob like call for vengeance against a thief that no one had even seen was not what the Knight of the Triforce had meant. And the fact she was sitting watch over them disgusted her even more.

In her heart she knew she was betraying the saying that had filled her spirit with such hope months earlier, but her mind knew that she did not have anywhere else to go. She was a Si'Frant, born to the community, trained to fight for and with the community. A Si'Frant was not supposed to imagine a life apart from the community but she did, a Si'Frant was not supposed to think blasphemous thoughts but she did, and a Si'Frant was not supposed to fear death but she did.

Just the thought of that fear made her face redden with shame. Verr again scanned the land around the camp, trying to combat the embarrassment swirling inside her. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists.

She wanted to live for herself, but didn't want to die without the Si'Frant around her.

And die she would—all the Si'Frant would. It was only a matter of time before this last remaining contingent of Si'Frant stumbled to death without a connection to their Si'Ra bond-masters. Long ago, servants of the Si'Ra gods had bound themselves to all the Si'Ra to prove their loyalty. In return for such devotion, they were promised positions as governors over the infidels that had been brought into the merciful light of the Si'Ra. But when the Si'Ra were banished to the underworld, the Si'Frant became warriors and began waiting for the day the Si'Ra would return and lead them to the foretold victory.

Unbidden, the face of the last Knight of the Triforce rose in her thoughts. His words again haunted her and made her question her purpose among this mob. The Knight knew what it was like to be the last of a dying race; she had seen that truth in his gaze. She knew that the Knight had killed the last Si'Ra, and that she should hate him, but the wrath the others felt had failed to seduce her. She could not hate because she understood he had not acted out of vengeance—Link had killed Jarod simply because he was on the opposite side of the battlefield from the Si'Ra.

Verr imagined herself walking away from her watch point, from the Si'Frant, and spending the rest of her days in freedom...freedom and loneliness. She pushed those thoughts away and settled herself once more into her watch. She would not leave tonight, perhaps tomorrow night...

A sudden shift in the air cut through her reverie. On reflex, Verr's guard came up and she turned her full attention to the environment around her. A quick scan showed no one in front of her, and the smells of fire and food cooking wafting from the camp masked any potential threat's odor. And then she heard it: the slight shifting of sand over boots as someone approached her from behind.

In a blink Verr was on her feet, spinning about to face her attacker. She dropped immediately into a combat crouch, forgoing the dagger at her belt for a hand-to-hand stance. Perhaps dispatching this annoyance would silence the Knight's voice by proving she wasn't a coward. She was a Si'Frant, a warrior second to none.

There was a brief flash of movement out of her peripheral vision and Verr had her target. Springing into the air, Verr twisted and brought her left hand down in a sweeping chop. Following her gaze, her hand moved toward the target's throat. As quick as thought she would disable the target by shattering its windpipe.

But she never made contact. Verr felt a brush of movement against her hip, sending her jump askew. She hit the ground hard and rolled away. Coming to her feet, Verr found the target standing peacefully where he had paused in approaching her.

It was Pav.

The elder Si'Frant smiled slightly and said, "I was expecting you to use your knife." He raised the small plate he held in one hand. "I thought you might like something to eat."

Verr blinked, dumbfounded. How could she have confused the leader of the Si'Frant with a common footpad? Then she realized why: the Bond was gone. She could no longer sense her family. The truth was frightening and left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Pav seemed to read her sudden mood shift. "You have learned much since the day I first met you in the dogi. You were just a little girl then, and very eager to prove yourself."

Verr cast her gaze to the ground. "You had just inherited the Mik of Canor," she said.

The old man gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Yes, yes I had." He moved next to her. "Eat, Verr. The sandray is a touch overdone but still good."

"Thank you, Master," Verr said, accepting the plate. She picked at the tender ray flesh underneath its hard, blackened shell but did not taste what she ate.

"Your mind was on the Knight's words," Pav stated.

She nodded. "Yes."

Pav let out a weary sigh. "Why must the young always seek to torture themselves with things beyond their control?" he muttered.

Verr felt a flash of anger. "I thought you agreed with the Knight," she said. "I thought you felt as I do about this expedition to find the Eye of Thanos. I thought you would—" She cut herself off with the realization that it wasn't her place to berate her leader. She stared at the plate of sandray, trying to bury her anger.

"Would what?" Pav asked calmly. "Order the Si'Frant to return to the Chamber of Tears so we could die over the graves of our brothers?"

Verr didn't trust her voice so she just nodded.

Pav compressed his lips into a flat line as he thought. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "you should focus less on what I should think and focus more on what you are thinking."

Verr looked up sharply. There was no bite to his tone, but the words still stung. "How could you say such a thing?" she demanded. "Have the Si'Frant already died? Is there no longer any chance for dignity in our death?"

"Do not, young one, mistake the dignity of death for the dignity of life. It is unfortunate that we shall perish without the Bond, but it is no less a sentence than the one you and I were born with.

"We all are born with the command to die, Verr. It is the in between that really matters. Death cares little if you have lived a virtuous life or not. Dead is dead."

Those words sounded too much like the Knight's for Verr's taste. "Then why pursue this pointless search?" she asked.

Pav's eyes twinkled impishly. "Don't ask me; I didn't order it."

"You command us!" Verr shouted. "You could have told them not to do this."

Pav shook his head. "I command no one, Verr. I am out here because I have chosen to be—just like the people in that camp there, and"—he jabbed her shoulder with one gnarled finger—"just like you."

"But I'm here because..." She couldn't finish that thought. Why was she here? Was it loyalty to the Si'Frant, to Pav, or something more?

Pav smiled. "Enjoy the night, Verr; I don't think many footpads are to be found this deep in Canor." With that, he walked away and left her to her thoughts.

In the distance, the storm continued.

* * *

Kilfa turned out to be a wide arena like chamber set deep in the Gorons' cave complex. Torches hung in worked metal braces throughout the arena and provided enough light to illuminate the entire chamber. A bowl shaped crater with smooth walls and floor was set in the center of the arena. The stench of Goron sweat hung heavy in the air.

Link watched from the edge of the crater as over a hundred Gorons crowded into the chamber. Their grunts and hisses were loud with excitement. He looked up at one of the guards standing along side him. "The whole tribe loves a good kilfa, huh?" he asked, trying to be lighthearted.

The guard didn't answer, instead scanned the crowd for a moment, and then waved to a waiting Goron female. The female, with wrinkles lining her face and long gray mane hanging past her breasts, walked up and unceremoniously reached into Link's cloak.

"I like you too," Link grunted as her hands searched his tunic.

The female quickly unclasped the Master Sword's baldric and took the weapon. She reached back and removed his belt pouches, knife, and hookshot. With a nod toward his guards, she stepped back into the crowd.

Across the bowl shaped crater, Clim was being similarly disarmed. Link watched with wide-eyed fascination as two females were needed to carry off the large pile of knifes, bolas, tola stones, and clubs removed from the Goron. With two of his fellow hunters lending aid, Clim eased himself down into the pit. At its lowest point, Link estimated, Clim would not even be able to see above its lip.

Link cleared his throat. "So what now?" he asked.

"Now," Groth said loudly from a raised platform, "you kilfa!"

With that, Link's guards pushed him into the crater. The crowd let free a thunderous roar as he fell. Responding quickly, Link twisted so the impact would absorb evenly along his right side. He rolled and came to his feet across from Clim.

Link pushed his cloak back and looked to Groth. "I don't understand," he called. "What are the rules?"

"You must fight," Groth said simply.

"Until?" Link prompted.

Groth smiled slightly. "Until your debt has been repaid."

"Perfect," the Knight muttered. Movement out of the corner of his eye was the only warning he had that Clim was attacking. Link spun about and ducked underneath the Goron's wide swing.

Backpedaling, he put distance between Clim and himself. "This is unfair combat," Link shouted. "You never told me what this would involve! This was supposed to be repayment for hurt honor."

"You are a trespasser on our land," Groth said. "That is a high crime."

"I told you I didn't mean to trespass!" Link said, running again from Clim. "You cannot prove otherwise."

"No," Groth admitted, "intent cannot be proven, but the deed is the same. You were on our land uninvited, and you will be punished for that."

Link backed into the curved wall of one side of the pit. "The Gorons higher up the mountain are much nicer," he commented under his breath.

Clim charged again at the Knight. With his mouth set in grim determination, and his fists opening and closing rhythmically, he was archetype of furious intensity. Leading with his left foot, he swung high.

But Link had already gone low. Ducking he tried slipping to the right, but Clim reacted with surprising speed for one of his bulk. He grabbed Link's shoulder and spun the Knight around.

Link didn't have any time to prepare a defense. He slammed against the wall with dizzying force. Clim, still holding onto Link's tunic with one hand, raised the Knight into the air and threw him across the pit.

The second impact against the crater wall knocked the air from Link's lungs. He rolled down the sloping wall and came to a rest with a groan. The watching crowd let out a cheer.

Link rose on his hands and knees, and gave his head a shake to clear away the shock. Clim roared a rumbling battle cry and charged. Link looked up just in time to see the massive Goron almost on top of him.

Reacting blindly, Link gathered his legs underneath him and sprang up in a stumbling run. Clim passed by in his peripheral vision.

"Don't make me do this, Groth!" Link called, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "I didn't come here to hurt your people."

"Perhaps that is true," the Goron elder said. "But I cannot change what is happening here. You agreed to the kilfa, and must now see it to its end. I shall intervene once Clim has injured you sufficiently to restore his honor, but until a champion is obvious, I can do nothing."

And that was that. Link drew a shaky breath and released it slowly. He worked to calm the growing fear in the pit of his stomach.

Clim, showing no worry or rush, again started forward.

Link backpedaled until his back was against the wall. His mind whirled as he struggled to come up with a plan. He glanced up at the lip of the crater; the wall was too smooth to scale and too high to reach with a jump, but maybe...

Half way across the pit, Clim raised his fists and charged. Link was ready this time; at the last possible moment, he stepped to the left and then jumped right. He pulled his legs close to his chest as he landed and rolled onto his back.

Clim, having already altered his trajectory to stop Link's move to the left, couldn't turn fast enough to follow the Knight. Link didn't hesitate. He kicked upward and drove his boots into Clim's unprotected side.

The Goron gave a slight wheeze as air left his lungs. He spun to face Link, grabbed the Knight's ankles in one large hand, and threw him bodily across the pit's floor.

Link was on his feet in a blink. He pushed his cloak out of the way and charged. Clim rocked back on his heels as he assumed a defensive posture. Link jumped and twisted in the air. He kicked and felt his boot make contact with Clim's head.

Clim turned with the force of the blow, but swatted Link away without any trouble.

Link rolled away and again climbed to his feet. "This is your last chance to end this, Groth!" he shouted, his gaze never wavering from Clim. "I am a Knight of the Triforce and not so easily beaten!"

"This match is almost over, Knight," Groth replied. "Lower your defenses and Clim shall make it quick."

"Like the Light I will," Link muttered, reaching up to unclasp his cloak. He pulled the garment off and coiled it between his hands until it was a long ropelike stretch of cloth.

"Come on, Clim," he said, pacing his end of the pit. "It's been a long day and I'm tired."

Clim bared his teeth and lumbered forward. He did not charge this time; he kept his movements slow and careful, trying to judge his opponent's next attack.

"Now is not the time to be cautious," Link muttered. He sighed and launched an attack. Using his lighter weight and maneuverability, he came in fast and jabbed Clim several times in the side before falling back.

The attack did not injure Clim, but did succeed in provoking the crowd. Above them the watching Gorons booed and shouted things in their native tongue. Spurred by the crowd's reaction, Clim charged.

Link stood waiting for the attack, cloak held like a rope in front of him. He watched Clim's hands, trying to determine from which angle the first punch would come. At three paces away, Clim's right hand began to tighten into a fist...and Link was already moving.

Launching upward, the Knight of the Triforce turned so he would come down on Clim's right side. And then, for a brief moment, Link's boot touched Clim's tightened fist. Responding with the reflexes of a trained swordsman, Link twisted and landed solidly on Clim's back. He dug his boots into Clim's sides to steady himself.

Before the Goron warrior could knock him off, Link snapped the cloak around Clim's leathery neck and pulled up and back. Clim reared like a wild horse, but the Knight held firm.

Link pulled for all his was worth, cutting off the Goron's air supply and hoping the cloth would not tear.

Clim swung right and left trying to restore his ability to breathe but could not. His eyes bulged and his tongue flapped like a snake against the sides of his open mouth.

Above them, the crowd had gone silent. A hundred Gorons stood stunned at what they were seeing in the pit.

'Come on, come on,' Link thought, 'you know what you have to do.'

As though on cue, Clim started running backward, thinking to slam Link against the wall. Link closed his eyes and surrendered to the calm within. He gathered his legs for another jump, and tried to envision how far away he was from the wall. Too far from the wall and he would be in no better of a position than when the attack started; too close and he would be trapped between a rock and a hard Goron.

And then Link knew it was time. Without question, he released his hold on the cloak and jumped. He leaned into a backflip and landed precariously on the edge of the crater.

He had escaped.

From Clim he had escaped, but not the hundred other angry Gorons clustered around the pit. Clim roared in rage and the crowd quickly picked up that cry.

Link turned just in time to see a fist as big as his head coming toward him. Ducking, he ran a wild zigzagging course through a gauntlet of Gorons. Large, leathery hands grabbed at him from every direction.

With several Gorons on his heels, Link stumbled to a corridor leading deeper into the cave network. He reached for a torch set in a finely worked holder and pulled it free. Spinning, Link brandished the torch in a feeble attempt to scare the Gorons back.

"_Grrootha_!" Groth's rumbling voice cut through the chamber.

The advancing Gorons obediently halted and made room for their leader to pass. Groth stopped several paces away from Link. There was an odd glint of respect in his ancient gaze. He regarded the Knight for a long moment then said, "Fire will not touch us."

Link nodded and lowered the torch. "I know."

"Why were you on our land?" Groth asked.

Link wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. "I am traveling to Canor and sought the entrance to a shortcut into the Wasteland."

"Why do you go to Canor?"

"I seek to help a friend," Link said. "I fear he is in danger from an object of great magic."

Groth drew a deep breath that rattled his entire body. "I declare the Knight of the Triforce victor of the kilfa!" he called, then repeated the same phrase in his native language. The crowd booed and stomped their feet, but did not challenge Groth's verdict. "You may have shelter tonight, and in the morning a guide shall take you through the shortcut."

"A guide is not—" Groth stopped Link with a dark glare. "Thank you, Excellency," Link said instead with a slight bow.

* * *

Propelled by a not so gentle shove, Link stumbled out of the rain and into the relative safety of a small underground dwelling. Shaking water from his cloak, the Knight looked back at his Goron escort party. "Thank you very much."

"You stay here," the lead Goron said in broken Hylian.

"I wasn't planning on being elsewhere," Link replied dryly.

Without another word, the three Gorons turned and vanished silently into the shadows.

Link let free a long sigh. "They were nicer when they were planning on kilfa-ing me," he muttered.

Not wanting him in the main dwelling, Groth had given Link the Goron equivalent of a tool barn to spend the night in. That was fine with Link; he'd spent many nights in barns. Picking his way over broken spear hafts and assorted clutter, Link shed his cloak and looked for a spot to settle in for the night—however much of it was left, that is.

He stopped cold when a sense of movement caught his attention. Immediately his guard rose and he reached for the Master Sword. Had Clim or another Goron disobeyed Groth and come here to finish the kilfa?

Squinting in the darkness, Link saw a shadowy figure move toward him from the far end of the dwelling. He tensed and readied himself for another fight...only to give a relieved laugh when the figure resolved itself into Epona.

The mare gave a joyous neigh and ran forward. She nearly knocked Link from his feet as she nudged against him in a horse version of a hug.

Link stroked her nose. "I'm happy to see you too, baby," he said. "Did they treat you well?"

Epona neighed and bit at the air.

Link nodded sympathetically and led her deeper into the dwelling. "You'll never believe what they made me do..."


	10. Chapter Eight

****

Chapter Eight

Zelda finished her morning briefings in record time, dismissed Chancellor Deverell and the assembly of advisors and aids gathered in the throne room, and rushed back to her private chambers. There she shed her silk dress and shift and clad herself in brown riding trousers and one of Link's old tunics. Reaching into the back of her wardrobe, she withdrew a pair of leather boots. She tried remembering how long it had been since she'd last worn the boots, but then decided it best not to think back that far. Zelda slipped the boots on over her silk stockings and started for the door.

She entered the throne room while tying her blonde hair back in a ponytail. Waiting for her was Impa, Glenn Tarmag, and another palace guard. If Glenn felt any shock at seeing the Princess of Hyrule in trousers, he didn't show it. He'd seen much more scandalous things than that in his long career.

"Are we ready to go?" Zelda asked without preamble.

"Horses and supplies are waiting for us in the courtyard," Impa replied tersely. She was still unhappy at revealing the location of the Sheikah library.

"Very good." Zelda turned to the captain of the guard. "Glenn?"

"I'll be accompanyin' ya," he said. "Me and the captain here will be providin' security."

For the first time since entering the chamber, Zelda turned her impatient gaze to the soldier standing next to Glenn. He stood an impressive head length above Tarmag and at least two lengths above Zelda. He was dark skinned and perhaps ten years younger than Glenn. Scars marred his face and bald head. He was clad in a sleeveless undertunic with a vest of chainmail over it; black bands around his biceps signified his rank of captain. With an eyepatch over his left eye, an assortment of knifes and throwing darts attached to his body with leather throngs, short sword over one shoulder, and half-moon war ax hanging from his belt, he was a model of intimidation. The perfect bodyguard.

From the corner of her eye, Zelda saw Impa note the same things about the man and give General Tarmag a nod of approval.

"Princess Zelda," Glenn said, "meet Captain Josia Irbe."

The mountain of a man bowed deeply and said with a rumbling voice, "I am in your service, Highness."

Zelda gave a curt nod. "A pleasure to meet you, Captain Irbe." Without another word, she spun on her heel and started down the promenade to the exit. The group fell dutifully in step behind her.

* * *

Once the pomp and ceremonies of a royal exit were finished, Zelda ordered Impa and her horse, Shadow, to take the lead position in their party while she, Zelda, followed behind on a small white mare. Glenn quickly took up position close and to the right of the princess while Irbe rode wide and to the left. Standard guardian positions.

They kept a steady pace for hours, moving deeper into the east end of Hyrule Field. They traveled over the countryside rather than the roads, but Zelda saw a number of farmhouses set apart from one another in the distance. Occasionally, the barking of dogs would alert them that they were too close to a farmer's property line. As the afternoon wore on, Zelda reluctantly called for a halt to rest the horses. Though the pride of her three bodyguards would keep them from admitting it, Zelda knew they were glad for the rest, too.

"How much farther?" Zelda asked Impa during their respite.

The Sheikah studied the rolling crests of land around them for a long moment before replying, searching either for attackers or landmarks. "Another five hours," Impa finally pronounced.

Zelda nodded and considered the new information. "We shall have to hurry so we aren't forced to make camp out here," she said, gazing at the cloud heavy sky. "I don't doubt your, or Glenn's, skill, but I'd rather not sleep in the Field at night and traveling is hardly an option without moonlight."

"You and Link traveled by night three years ago while fleeing the Si'Ra," Impa said pointedly. "Didn't you?"

Zelda glanced at her former nanny in surprise. There had been an implication in that question. "Yes, but because of necessity. And," she quickly added, "you, for all your Sheikah training, are not a Knight of the Triforce. Link knew how to navigate the Field and the western woodlands better than anyone else in Hyrule."

Impa drew a sharp breath. That had not been a simple statement to her, Zelda knew, but an attack on the Sheikah's ability to serve and protect. The part of Zelda trained in matters of politics watched without guilt for Impa's reaction. The two women considered each other for a long moment.

"I see," Impa said through a forced grin. "If you will excuse me, Princess, I must scout ahead before we continue." Inclining her head in a slight bow, she turned and walked away.

Zelda weighed Impa's bizarre question, then remembered Link's observation that Impa was treating him differently since she returned from Canor. A possible reason for Impa's odd behavior formed in Zelda's thoughts, but she quickly discounted it as preposterous.

"What business could _that_ possibly be of hers?" Zelda asked aloud.

"Your Highness?" Glenn's voice called behind her.

Zelda turned to see the burly man approaching her. "Yes, General?"

"I was wonderin' if I could have a moment o' yer time?"

Zelda pushed away her thoughts about Impa and Link and softened her expression with a smile. "Of course, Glenn. What do you need?"

Glenn glanced down and then back up to meet her gaze. "I'd like ya to consider takin' Irbe on as yer personal guard."

Zelda's smile fell. "Absolutely not," she said.

"Now hear me out," Glenn said in a tone that reminded Zelda he'd been an adviser to the crown since she was a small child. "I haven't pressed the issue because o' Link bein' here, but he ain't here now. I have duties other than bein' behind ya all day long, but ya need full protection and Irbe is just the soldier for the job.

"I trained him personally, and he's just come back from runnin' patrols out in the eastern badlands. He's loyal to the crown and won't let anythin' touch ya while he's still breathin'."

That last sentence struck a cord deep within Zelda. "I don't need that sort of protection," she said heatedly. "There are no threats against me, and even if there were, I have the entire palace guard at my call. One man standing over my shoulder is just an annoyance, not protection.

"I have no doubt your protégé is as loyal as Link is on a bad day, but that sort of loyalty is a death mark in the ranks of the palace guards. I have already watched as one young man was cut down while protecting me, and I have no intention of letting another surrender his life."

Glenn drew back, obviously stung by her rebuke. Warren. The name hung unsaid between them. The night Jarod had orchestrated a rebellion against Zelda, her personal guard Warren had given his life in combat so she could escape. Glenn had faced that young man in a dual...and beat him. Despite that crime and others, Zelda had issued a full pardon for him and other members of the palace guard that revolted.

"Aye, Princess," Glenn said. "I only hoped ya would consider it." With that he turned and walked back the way he had come.

Zelda watched him go and then looked in the direction Impa had gone. She wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug and wondered what Link was doing at that moment.

* * *

Glenn found Irbe brushing down the horses not far from Princess Zelda. To an average observer, Irbe's location would not have been special, but Glenn easily spotted the larger man's tactical advantage. He was caring for the horses on the top of a small hillcrest—slightly higher than where Princess Zelda stood. From his vantage point, Irbe gave Zelda a wide area of personal space, but also kept the area closely monitored.

Glenn noted this with a smile of satisfaction. During Irbe's years of training, Glenn had picked him as someone who would go far. Once Irbe had completed his basic training, Glenn had sent him on several long missions into the Gerudo Valley and, more recently, the far eastern badlands. Glenn had many plans for the young palace guard...

The time spent with the Gerudo and chasing brigands in the harsh badlands were only the initial stages of Irbe's special training, for Glenn knew that Josia Irbe would have to learn how to give counsel to power before rising any further.

Irbe snapped off a sharp salute when he saw Glenn approaching. "Sir!"

"At ease, Captain," Tarmag said, returning the salute.

Irbe clasped his hands behind his back and spread his legs shoulder length apart. "The perimeter is secure, as ordered, General."

"Good." Glenn crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Josia, what do ya think of Princess Zelda?"

"Sir?"

"Ya heard me."

"She is not what I expected, sir," Irbe said. His tone was unsure, as though hesitant to say anything less than glowing about the monarchy. After the events of the rebellion three years ago, Glenn knew that was a common ailment in the ranks of the guard. "I thought she would be...less forceful. More dependent on you and me to head the charge. I know she has deemed this Sheikah library a place of supreme importance, but I believe she would travel there by herself if she had to—even without the Sheikah Witch."

"Ya expected her to rely on the palace guard more?"

Irbe nodded. "Yes, sir. Was it wrong to have that impression?"

Glenn shook his head. "All rulers are different," he said. "King Harkinian made full use of us, but Zelda's ain't used to havin' us around. She's like her mother in that way..." Memories from almost thirty years ago when he'd been a green lieutenant newly transferred to Prince Harkinian's detail bubbled upward in his mind. Barely a month into that assignment, he had been selected to travel with and protect the prince's love on a trip to Calatia.

"Sir?" Irbe asked, concerned.

Glenn shook those events off and returned his thoughts to the present. "Nothin', Captain. Carry on." He turned and started back down the hill. The memories of Calatia all those years ago continued to haunt him for the rest of the day, however.

* * *

As soon as a tall rock formation came into view on the horizon, Impa declared it their destination. Zelda didn't waste a moment and called for a full gallop.

Night had already set in by the time they arrived at the rock spire. Glenn and Irbe, although there was no overt threat to Zelda, kept looking over their shoulders for pursuers.

Zelda glanced upward at the towering formation; the dark hid most of its features, but she could still make out the general form of a round spire rising to a sharp point at one end and angling down to a smooth edge at the other.

"Is this it?" Glenn asked incredulously. "It ain't like no library I ever seen."

Impa stroked Shadow's sweaty mane and then dismounted. "This place is home to knowledge that must be protected. This fortification provides more than enough security for that knowledge," she said without looking back.

Irbe shifted uncomfortably on his saddle. "So how do we get in?"

Zelda glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He saw her looking and hastened to mutter an apology.

Impa walked slowly to the rock wall. "The way of my people has long been misunderstood," she said softly, trancelike. "We are the oldest race in the known world. Before Hylians tamed the land and beasts of burden, before the Zora ventured from their ponds and riverways to breathe air, before the Gorons lit their forges, and before the Knights of the Triforce and the Si'Ra crossed weapons to determine the fate of the world, we watched.

"The Sheikah, the Shadow People, watched and catalogued all. We watched kingdoms rise and fall, cults transform into religions, and victories in war change the perception of history." Her voice fell to such a point Zelda had to strain in order to hear. "And throughout it all we never interfered...We kept our part of the bargain."

Irbe opened his mouth to speak, but saw Zelda's gaze on him and thought better of his comment.

Impa pressed her hands to the smooth, cold stone and began moving to the side. "This," she hissed, "is but part of our work." And with that, she disappeared into the rockface.

The reactions were instantaneous: Glenn pulled his sword free and wheeled his horse about to come in close to Zelda; Irbe jumped from his saddle and came down in a combat crouch, his war-ax at the ready; even Zelda, who had been expecting some sort of magical display, drew back in surprise.

"Impa!" Glenn and Zelda called as one. Irbe's leather gloves creaked as he adjusted his grip on the ax's haft.

And then, as suddenly as she vanished, Impa reappeared in front of the rockface. She sported a slightly mischievous grin. "I have found the entrance," she said.

Zelda laughed with relief and dismounted. "You gave me a start, Impa," she said.

Glenn nodded his agreement and sheathed his sword.

"You should have given us warning!" Irbe shouted, his ax still clutched tightly in his hands. "We could have—"

"You could have done nothing," Impa cut him off. She looked up at him. "You should open yourself to the possibilities of magic, Captain. Perhaps if you did, you won't be so easily frightened by it."

Irbe's eye flashed with anger, but Glenn was suddenly there beside him. "Put it away, Josia," the general said. "Go scout the area and make sure it's empty."

Irbe drew a shaky breath. "Yes, General," he said curtly. With one last glance at Impa, he mounted his horse and rode off.

"Nice man you'd like as my bodyguard, Glenn," Zelda said dryly.

Glenn shook his head. "He's just jumpy around magic."

"Good guards need not have brains," Impa said, "just muscle. Come, let's go inside."

Shadow followed Impa through the false wall without hesitation, but the other two mares needed coaxing and several shoves to get them through. Zelda followed the horses through with Glenn behind her. Not knowing what to expect, she held her breath and took a long step toward the false wall. For a moment everything vanished into darkness, a feeling akin to walking through a spider's web brushed over her skin, even underneath her clothes, and then she was through. A narrow and sharply curved entrance hall opened before her, and behind her Zelda could see Glenn obscured by a veil of gray, waiting his turn to pass through.

Zelda walked down the hall and came to a much wider doorway. She gasped when she saw the main chamber of the library; the room was easily double the size of her throne room with row upon row of bookshelves, each packed with old tomes. A hearth the size of Zelda's arm span stood to the right of the entrance, and another archway stood at the far end of the chamber. She had to crane her neck to see the ceiling; there she saw a skylight that filled the chamber with what little starlight made its way through the cloud canopy.

"Ya Sheikah never do anythin' small, do ya?" Glenn asked, coming up behind Zelda.

"No," Impa answered in all seriousness, "we don't." She gestured to the second archway. "There you will find a natural spring and a place for the horses."

"Aye," Glenn said, obviously still awed by the impressive chamber. He gathered the horses' reins and led them toward the spring.

* * *

Glenn and Irbe worked with the speed of two well-trained soldiers and pronounced the area safe, collected enough firewood to last into the next day, built a fire in the hearth, and started heating a stew made from their travel supplies before the hour was finished.

"Isn't the smoke seen from the outside?" Irbe asked as he stirred the small logs in the hearth.

Impa finished collecting small clay bowls from their saddlebags and walked to him. "The smoke is vented through other parts of the spire," she said, and began dishing out portions of the stew. "Only if we had a full blaze going, and if someone were looking specifically for the smoke, would we need to worry."

Glenn leaned against the entrance arch and watched the false wall. "How many o' these forts are around, Impa? They could be useful in military operations."

Impa walked to Glenn and handed him a bowl of stew. "This is not a place of bloodshed, General," she said with an edge to her tone telling him the subject was closed.

Zelda traced her hand over a row of books and then looked at her fingers. "This place is remarkably preserved, Impa," she said. "There isn't even any dust."

Impa handed Zelda a bowl and laughed slightly. "This refuge is guarded by magic; the books here will out live us all by millennia."

At that, Irbe shifted uneasily and looked cautiously around the chamber.

After a quick dinner of stew and hard saddle biscuits, the group opened their bedrolls and prepared themselves for bed. Glenn threw several logs on the fire and clapped Irbe on the shoulder. "Wake me in a few hours for me watch," he said. The two soldiers insisted on standing watch despite Impa's assurance of the safety of the library.

Impa saw to the horses, then she, too, retired for the night. Zelda, unable to find sleep so easily, lay awake while the others slept. Hundreds of thoughts raced through her mind, each demanding individual attention. Here, in the best chance so far she had at finding useful information about the Eye of Thanos, she wanted desperately to dive into the mountain of knowledge and not emerge until she had what Link needed, but she was also afraid. Afraid that there was no information to be found. Thanos had lived thousands of years ago and many of his records were lost to the ages. And she was afraid that Link was on a fool's quest. Friendship meant a great deal to him and she knew he would not stop searching for his friend, even if it were a futile cause. Duncan could very well be beyond anyone's reach by now.

Zelda rose on her elbows and looked out at the Sheikah chamber. The fire was still burning steadily, casting flickering shadows over the prone figures of her friends. The room was warm, but not uncomfortably so. Zelda drew a deep breath, released it slowly, and realized that, for the first time since...since Link left Hyrule, she felt safe. The palace guard always protected her, but protection and the feeling of safety were completely different things.

She wanted to say that feeling was because Impa was again at her side, but knew there was another reason: Glenn and Irbe. All day the general and captain had acted like there was an invasion force nipping at their heels. They had done everything possible to ensure her safety while traveling.

Since the rebellion lead by the Si'Ra nearly three years ago, the palace guard and Glenn Tarmag had been more cautious around her and Link, but today it was something more. It was genuine concern for her wellbeing.

She thought again of Warren.

Kicking her thin blanket away, Zelda climbed to her feet and padded across the chamber. Her stocking clad feet were silent against the stone floor. She approached Irbe and realized for the first time how tactically sound the curved entrance hall was. From the archway, most of the countryside was observable and it was impossible for anyone to sneak through the false wall without detection. This may not be a place of bloodshed, but such deliberate precautions hinted at a grisly past.

Irbe glance up sharply when he noticed her approach. "Princess!" he said in surprise.

Zelda waved off the salute she knew was coming. "Stay seated, Captain," she said. "Save the formality for a time when it matters."

"May I help you with something, Princess?" he asked.

"I thought you might like some company," she said. "I know how boring it can be to stand watch."

It took Irbe a moment to realize she was asking to sit next to him. From the shocked look on his face, she guessed it never occurred to him that the Princess of Hyrule would ask for something. "I would be honored," he finally managed.

Zelda gave him a small smile and sat beside him. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. "You don't like the Sheikah, do you?" she asked.

"I, ah—" He looked to Impa's sleeping form.

"You can answer me truthfully," Zelda said. "I don't much care for lies, especially if they are to placate me."

"I don't like magic," Irbe said, meeting her gaze with his one eye. "The Sheikah Witches are just another face of magic."

Zelda thought for a long moment. "I have magic," she said, "Link has magic, and the Triforce is made of magic."

Irbe shook his head. "I don't hold allegiance to the Triforce; I've never met the Knight of the Triforce; and I serve the crown of Hyrule, not the magic within its wearer."

Zelda nodded and smiled slightly at his tactful answer. "Why don't you like magic?"

Irbe drew a deep breath and looked at the entranceway without really seeing it. "I have spent the last ten years of my life in the badlands," he said. "There, some of the thief groups have mages with them." He swallowed hard before continuing. "The magic they control is a terrible one. I have seen men, larger than me, blown completely apart simply by the power of a single mage.

"I have never seen magic used for good. To me, it is just an efficient weapon to kill with. Perhaps you and the Knight know how to use the power responsibly, but others don't share that opinion. If I had my way, I would go off to a place where there is no magic."

Zelda thought about the desolate Wasteland of Canor and shivered. "Be careful what you wish for, Captain," she said. "Be very careful."

They sat in silence for several long moments.

"Highness," Irbe finally ventured. "May I ask a question?"

"I told you formality would not be necessary," Zelda reminded him. "Ask your question."

"Why is this place so important to you?" Irbe gestured to the library around them.

"It's important to me because it is important to Link's quest," Zelda answered without hesitation.

"Okay." Irbe nodded. "Why are you out here instead of him, then?"

Zelda laughed. "That, Captain, is a _very_ good question." She thought for a moment. "If you ever meet Link, I don't want you to repeat what I'm about to tell you.

"Link isn't here to pursue this lead—and why he was so eager to leave Hyrule—because of the same reason you are uncomfortable around Impa: he's afraid of magic."

Irbe looked at her as though she just stated that dirt was good to eat. The captain may not have met the Knight, but he, like most of the palace guards, knew of the legendary exploits.

"It's true," Zelda said. "Link fights with magic, he fights to protect it in others, and he has sacrificed more than I shall ever know to keep it in this world, but it is also something that he fears. He fears the magic that is his by birthright. He thinks that it is force to be tightly controlled, not simply another part of himself."

"And being here will help him realize that...?" Irbe asked, looking as though he was only following half of what she said.

Zelda shook her head. "There's nothing I can do to help Link learn something like that; he must come to it on his own. But I shall be waiting for him when he does."

"You sound very sure."

"Link is very good at learning things," Zelda said with a shrug. "I have faith."


	11. Chapter Nine

****

Chapter Nine

"Wait, Duena," Link said turning to Epona.

The female Goron several strides ahead of him stopped and looked back. "Is something wrong, Knight?"

Link bent to inspect Epona's front left hoof. "I don't know yet."

It had been three days since Groth had awakened Link early in the morning with the news that it was time to leave the tribal village. Since then he and Duena, his escort through the maze like tunnels underneath Death Mountain to Canor, had been traveling steadily. Duena, Link learned, had been assigned to him because she was fluent in Hylian and because she was one of the few Gorons in the village not searching for a reason to challenge him to another kilfa. At seventy years old, she was still too much of a juvenile to concern herself with injured honor.

Duena stood easily seven feet tall and carried a knife that was half as long as Link was tall. He quickly got the impression that despite how comfortably she wore the weapon, she had never used it before in her life. The knife was simply a weapon of intimidation—though a very effective one.

"These small stones littering the ground are hard on her shoes," Link said as he used a small pick to dislodge two stones the size of fingernails from Epona's horseshoes.

Duena walked up to him and blinked her large eyes. "Your beast is wearing footwear?" she asked, surprised. "Those look natural."

Link almost laughed, but caught the earnest tone of her voice and held back. He tapped the worked metal nailed to Epona's hoof with the pick. "These, Duena, are her shoes. They help protect her feet from injury while traveling."

"Oh." The Goron nodded thoughtfully. "Will she be okay?"

Link released Epona's leg and circled around her, checking each shoe. When he couldn't find any more stones, he put the pick back into his saddlebag. "For now she'll be fine," he said. "But I'd like a blacksmith to look at her as soon as possible. She may need new shoes."

Duena gave another thoughtful nod. "You should find one in Visola."

Link hefted his pack and lantern and turned back to the path. "How far out of my way would going to that town put me?"

Duena fell in step behind him. "None at all. Visola is the last stop before the Wasteland of Canor. It sits directly on the perimeter of your country."

"Do many travelers pass through there?" he asked.

Duena shook her head. "Not as they once did. My people rarely travel that far from the home mountain, and few brave the wilds of the Wasteland."

"Well, even if they are a community of farmers," Link said, "they would still need metal tools, so they should have a blacksmith."

"It is hard for you plant eaters to grow things in Canor," Duena said. "The soil kills almost all living organisms put into it."

"Sounds like a lovely place," Link said dryly.

"It is not," his companion said, missing the sarcasm completely. "The Werth River and the Jidra River intersect not far from Visola, and many of the town's youth use the Jidra to travel south to Calatia for work. Some even use the Werth to find work in Cape Town or on the Great Hyrulian Sea. They then send money and goods back home."

Link shuddered at the thought of an entire village being dependent on its children for economic stability. No farming or supporting industries of its own. "That is no way to live," he said. "People should be able to work and earn for themselves, not be reliant on others—especially their own children—for prosperity. Why would anyone stay like that?"

Duena shrugged. "It is home," was all she could offer. "That has been Visola's way since the coming of the blight that devastated Canor."

"Each second brings me closer to Canor," Link said. "And each second I grow to like that place less and less. I have yet to see it, but it is already a wasteland in my mind."

"My people speak of a time when it was not so," Duena said. "Even the oldest of us cannot remember, but our history does say that once Canor was a vibrant land of life. People lived and prospered off of the forests and land, adventurers traveled into Canor seeking untold fortunes, and merchants established trade routes all throughout the lower Werth valley."

"What happened?"

"No one knows. History tells of a battle of magic between the ruler of Canor and his apprentice that tainted all life, but those parts of the scrolls are ancient and vague."

Link idly wondered how old something had to be for the long-lived Gorons to consider it ancient. Were a couple of thousand years long enough?

Slowly, the tunnel began to turn downward. Link lifted his lantern, widening the sphere of light about them. The flickering flamelight reflected off the burnt red cave walls. The walls, Link noted, were growing smoother the farther down they traveled. Stalactites and stalagmites, which Link had encountered in every cave he'd ever been in, were absent from even the upper tunnels.

"These are lava tubes, aren't they?" Link asked with sudden realization.

"Yes," Duena said. "These are but a few of the tunnels crafted by the rivers of hot stone that burn in the heart of Death Mountain."

"I hope these aren't active," Link said lightly. "I didn't pack my raft."

"They are not," Duena said, again missing his attempt at humor. "They have been quiet for many decades and nature is already beginning to claim the lava tubes as her own."

They traveled in relative quiet for the next several hours. At one point, the tunnel narrowed and Link and Duena had to pass separately through with Epona between them. Soon, however, the tunnel widened allowing Duena and Link to again walk side by side. Epona dutifully followed along.

Link was about to call for a rest when they passed a curve and the cave suddenly opened to a long chamber, easily a hundred yards from end to end. In the room's center was a natural spring lit from beneath its surface by phosphorescent algae. Link lowered his lantern is awe of the grand chamber before him.

Duena gestured to the spring. "Once we pass over the bridge, the tunnels will begin to turn back to the surface. We are nearly at the end of our journey."

Link's gaze followed to where she pointed. A narrow catwalk, made seemingly of the same reddish stone as the rest of the cavern, stretched across the clear water. He turned back and glanced at Epona; the mare had a look of hesitation in her eyes.

"You have to do it, baby," he told her. "_I'm_ going to do it."

Epona snorted indignantly and followed without struggle as Link led her toward the water's edge. He jumped onto the bridge and gave a slight tug on her reins. She put one hoof tentatively on the bridge, another, another, and then she was on the narrow catwalk.

"How deep is this water?" Link asked as he walked slowly across. The clop of Epona's hooves against the stone echoed throughout the chamber.

"No one knows," Duena said, still standing on the water's edge. "It never seemed worth the trouble to measure it."

Link stole a glance down. The light the algae gave off showed most of the pool, but there was no sight of the bottom. Small silvery fish, the size of Link's forefinger, darted through the water.

"Once we are across, we should fill our waterskins," Link said. "We don't know if there will be another opportunity to do so before the Werth River."

"No!" Duena cried. "We must not touch the water!"

Her sudden anxiety caught him off guard. "Why? What's wrong with the water?"

"The krinian will attack anything that disturbs the surface of the spring," Duena explained. "Their teeth can gnaw through even a Goron's tough skin."

"Krinian?" Link looked back down to the silvery fish. One turned, presenting its profile to Link, and he saw two pointed teeth protruding from its lower jaw. He shivered with understanding. Epona let free a worried sounding neigh.

"Easy, baby, we're almost there." They were a little more than half way to the opposite shore. Link kept an eye on the schools of krinian that swam just inches from his boots. Several pushed against the surface and jumped free of the water, but none were close enough to the bridge to pose a threat.

Link stepped from the catwalk and led a very relieved Epona down with him. Immediately, the mare quickly walked to the end of the chamber, ready to move on. "Be very careful, Duena," he called.

"Of course, Knight." The large Goron started across the bridge. Link saw at once that there was going to be a problem: underneath Duena's feet the stone groaned and snapped. He wondered just how much more a female Goron weighed than a man and horse. "Hurry!" he shouted as another snap reverberated through the chamber.

Duena quickened her pace, but she was not going fast enough Link knew. He raised a hand to signal Epona to stay back—she didn't need much convincing—and jumped onto the edge of the bridge. The Knight reached for an object dangling from his belt.

Duena was halfway across the bridge when it gave way with a mighty groan. With a scream of mortal fear, the Goron plunged into the deep water.

In a blink Link's hand was up and a snap-click sounded. The hookshot traveled the distance between man and Goron and wrapped itself thrice around Duena's chest, its spearlike tip catching the bony growth of her exoskeleton. The chain snapped taut and Link jerked so violently he feared his arms were going to come out of their sockets. He gripped the hookshot with both hands and leaned back with all his weight.

It wasn't enough. Duena was still sinking, but she wasn't going down like a stone. In that moment, he had to be thankful for small favors.

"Kick your legs!" Link yelled through clenched teeth. Speaking robbed him of concentration; he skipped forward two feet on the remains of the bridge. Duena sank another three.

"I can't swim!" Duena franticly screamed. "Can't float!"

Veins strained in his arms as Link heaved backward. "Kick your legs and grab the bridge!"

Her weight dragged him another stride forward. Link was pulling for all he was worth, but he couldn't keep from sliding down the bridge. He only had another couple of feet before he reached the broken end and fell in the drink, too. "Do it, Duena, or we'll both drown today!"

That seemed to pierce her panic. She fumbled for the few remaining stones of the bridge and grabbed hold. The center of the bridge had shattered like an egg, but there were still loose stones and two support strips running alongside each other. Anyone else could have used the leverage given by the hookshot to climb onto one of the strips or used the stones to gain buoyancy, but Duena was too balky to do that. The stones would further break underneath her great weight if she even tried, so she had to use the support strips as aids to guide her back to shore.

Once she started moving through the water, Link switched his left hand to the hookshot's chain. With his right thumb he flicked the retract stud. The gears of the small device in his hand moaned in protest. Link again leaned back and slowly, ever so slowly, began taking ground.

"I can feel the krinian on me, Link," Duena said. The water level was to her neck and lapped into her mouth when she spoke.

"I know. Just keep kicking and pulling."

It seemed to take hours, but Duena finally emerged from the spring. She gave a cry as the krinian clinging to her hide bit harder.

As soon as she left the water, Link was moving. He dropped the hookshot and drew the Master Sword. The blade of legend came free with the sound of deadly sharp steel scraping against leather. The sword's magic called by Duena's pain, rushed into the Knight's soul. The carefully constructed boundaries in his mind fell to the rush of hot magic.

He heard his voice tell Duena not to move, and then he was in the air. The cavern, the ache in his arms, and Duena herself faded into shadow. The Knight of the Triforce saw only the Master Sword and the fish flapping their tails helplessly as their teeth dug deeper.

The sword came about in a downward sweep as Link landed. Fishes fell sliced in half to the ground. Link danced to the side and brought his blade around in a wide arc that went from Duena's right breast to her left knee. More fish littered the ground.

To his eyes, it was a form. The magic flowed through him, joining with him and making him feel whole, and he could see exactly where the sword had to be to setup the next swipe. His muscles responded gladly to the quickness and dexterity that the magic offered. It felt good to hold the magic again—too good, perhaps. The blade came up in a corkscrew that sliced six krinians into twelve separate pieces.

The Knight twisted into a side turn, his right hand joined his left on the hilt, and he was behind Duena. Fifteen krinians fell. Not a single lived to even twitch once on the ground.

Link turned again, his blade tracking for anymore silver fish, and completed his dance around the Goron. The echo of his warning was still rebounding in the chamber. Three dozen krinian lay at Duena feet, all dead.

Link drew a shaky breath. He forced the magic away, locking it again from his mind and soul. Since the day in the Temple of Time when he almost gave the Si'Frant the Triforce, he had been drawing on the sword's magic less and less. He never trusted himself before that day with the awesome power offered by the blade, but now he knew how great the dangers were of its misuse. The magic exited his body and left him feeling drained. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Duena stared at him wide eyed. She managed a nod. "H-how did you do that?" she asked.

Link sheathed the Master Sword. "Years of practice. Come on, let's see how badly they hurt you."

After a few minutes of intense examination by lantern light, they discovered that Duena had been very lucky: none of the krinians had drawn blood. She had some scratches, and disturbed nerves, but no deep cuts.

With the adrenaline of the moment fading, Link and Duena mutually agreed to setup camp there and continue on in the morning.

"Thank you again, Link," Duena said as he was opening his bedroll. She was staring unblinkingly at the spring.

Link lay back on the roll. "You don't have to thank me, Duena," he said. "You would have done the same."

"You do not understand," she said, still watching the spring. "Gorons sink in water. We could not swim even if we wanted to. You risked your life to save mine."

Link reached over and rested a hand on her leathery forearm. "If it were ever required of you, I know you would do the same."

Duena never stopped watching the flashes of silver moving underneath the surface of the spring. "I shall do just that, Knight."

* * *

It was another day and a half before they finally reached the end of the tunnel complex. Rounding the last curve, Link found Duena waiting in the mouth of the cave. Wind rushed in blowing his hair and filling his head with the sweet scents of lilies, grass, and freshly turned earth. He was thrilled to escape the suddenly confining subterranean passageway.

With Epona close on his heels, he joined Duena on a natural rock landing. They were at the edge of the high ground around Death Mountain. The mountain itself rose behind them like a dark specter blotting out most of the sun. A trail leading down from the landing at a sharp left angle was almost completely lost in an overgrowth of weeds and grass.

Following the trail with his gaze, Link saw several more hills that rose like welts on the earth before giving way to a flat basin that stretched to smoky blue nothingness on the horizon. A village sat sheltered in between the final two hills. Grass, green and wheat brown in color, followed the trail to the village but then came to an abrupt end. Past the village was nothing but grayish-blue sand.

The Wasteland of Canor.

Link swallowed hard as he took in the vastness of it all. Somewhere in all that sand was his friend. A hard stone formed in the pit of his stomach as the enormity of the task still ahead of him sank in.

"We are now at the border of your Hyrule," Duena said. "Down there is Visola and beyond that...Canor."

Link nodded and said, "It's been awhile since I've been out this far."

No, he silently corrected, it hasn't been that long. Just three years ago he and Zelda had escaped to Calatia, fleeing the Si'Ra. Fear of capture by the palace guard and of what they would do to Zelda dominated his mind at the time. Now, looking back, he longed for a time of such simplicity.

Get Zelda out of Hyrule and worry about the future later. That was his only thought during that month long trial. Without the obligations that came with being the last Knight of the Triforce or Princess of Hyrule, he and Zelda had simply enjoyed each other the way a normal man and woman could. They were forced to return to Hyrule, however, to overthrow Jarod and then the Si'Frant had come seeking his aid and cold reality again set in. He and Zelda were what they were, and nothing could change that. He knew that, in time, Zelda would come to understand, too. It would not be easy for her to admit, and Impa gloating from the shadows would make it even harder, but it was something that she would have to confront.

Duena pointed. "We can rest and have your beast tended to in the village."

Link hefted his pack and extended an arm. "Lead the way, Duena," he said.


	12. Chapter Ten

****

Chapter Ten

Nomadic travelers marching to Armageddon. That phrase kept repeating itself in Verr's head as she marched after her family.

They had been walking across the Wasteland of Canor for the past three weeks, driven by faint magical stirrings that indicated the Eye of Thanos was being used, and by a twisted sense of...what? Verr wondered. Duty? Vengeance?

Vengeance, she finally decided. There was no duty in this. The Si'Ra had not ordered this hopeless march toward a goal they may never reach. She had studied the Si'Ra/Knights of the Triforce War extensively as a child—all the Si'Frant had—and she knew that the Si'Ra would never have approved of this. They were master tacticians and knew better than to engage in a fight destined to fail.

Already, two more Si'Frant had fallen in the trek across Canor. Verr grieved not for the fact they were dead, but because they would forever rot in the sand of Canor instead of the burial grounds near the Chamber of Tears. Scavengers would now feast on their flesh and the sun would dry their bones because of this march to find whoever stole the Eye.

The old history tapestries told much of Thanos so the Si'Frant knew where to find the dead necromancer's palace, but it was very far away and they were fighting time. Verr often felt that if she looked over her shoulder, she would see Death standing there waiting to claim the next Si'Frant that stumbled.

Verr walked at the end of the procession. She wanted to believe it was symbolic of her philosophical distance from the leaders of this expedition, but she knew it was really because of the man in front of her: Pav. The true head of the Si'Frant had seemingly been disowned as leader and was reduced to walking after the younger, stronger Si'Frant. The Mik of Canor apparently meant nothing to those that had once vowed to die for it.

The elder Si'Frant was growing worse, Verr could see. His back bent with the weight of exertion, the skin around his eyes sagged, and his walk was listless. For the first time in Verr's life, Pav actually _seemed_ old.

And then, with an ease that made it look voluntary, Pav collapsed.

Verr screamed and ran to him. "Stop, stop!" she called to the other Si'Frant. Several halted and looked back.

"Is he gone?" Gil asked, pushing his way through the throng to Verr.

Verr sank to the ground and cradled her mentor's head in her lap. She could almost see Death grin wickedly and reach for him. You didn't actually think he would make it, did you?

"No," she said to herself as much as Gil. "But he's burning up. The traveling has worn on him" She looked up at her Si'Frant brother. "We have to stop and let him rest."

"But the Eye..." came a voice in the back of the crowd that had gathered.

"To the Light with the Eye!" Verr screamed. She became aware of wetness on her cheeks. "Pav has ruled since before most of us were born, and he helped train all of us. We can't just leave him out here!"

Gil sank to his haunches next to Verr. "I agree. We are not far from the ruins of Othin and should find enough herbs there to return his strength." He looked to Yin, the Si'Frant that had spoken up about the Eye.

"If it's the sickness," Yin pointed out, "no herbs will help. Only a Knight of the Triforce or the Si'Ra could end this curse."

Gil shook his head. "This is travel weariness," he said lying like a diplomat. "I am skilled in healing and can help him regain his strength."

Yin and those that sided with him made arguments, but in the end no one was willing to suggest leaving Pav to the mercy of Canor. They all agreed to make camp in the old city of Othin for several days and allow Gil and Verr to do what they could for Pav.

'Marching to Armageddon,' Verr thought again.

* * *

Visola was like many other small villages Link had seen in his life, but the sense of life and community usually found within tiny townships was lacking here. Its residents ambled between squat, two story buildings that were in varying states of neglect. Paint flaked away from the walls and blew into the emptiness of Canor. Shutters drawn tight on many of the buildings had green fungus growing on them, and were slowing rotting away.

The men and women of Visola, many clad in uniform tan robes that blocked the sun's heat, moved with a hopeless that pulled at Link's heart. Obesity seemed to affect many of the citizens, but it was not from an overabundance of food and good fortune. Instead, the people seemed overweight simply because they had given up on everything, even their own health. Link heard the sounds of chronic coughing emerge from the shadowy alleys between buildings as he walked by. The stink of disease, cheap alcohol, and neglect permeated the entire town.

Link and Duena walked through the main street of Visola, drawing stares that lasted only until depression could again gain its foothold on these poor people.

"I'll leave as soon as Epona's shoes are affixed," Link said. "This is not a place I care to spend any time in."

Duena nodded her agreement and kept pace with the Knight.

"I appreciate the company," Link began gently, "but you don't have to stay with me until Epona is ready for travel, Duena."

The Goron shook her head insistently. "No, Link. You aided me in the shortcut at the risk of your life. Because of that, I shall stay until I have repaid the debt in kind. I shall see this quest of yours to its end."

"I can't ask you to do that," Link said. "Your place is in your village, not wherever my search for Duncan is going to take me. And, there is no debt to repay; I helped you just as you would have helped me."

"I am heartened that you feel that way," Duena said. "But I cannot be sure I would have risked death to help you."

"So you are going to place yourself in danger to find out?"

"No, Knight, the event in the cave is in the past. I am not ashamed to think that I might not have helped you, but I do wish to explore that side of myself to a greater extent. Traveling with you is the way I am to accomplish this experiment."

"Right," Link said, still unsure. He spotted a wide building in the distance with two barnlike doors thrown open letting free the clanging of hammers against hot metal. Thick black smoke belched from three brick chimneys atop the building. Link gathered Epona's reins and led her toward the smithy.

Rith, a heavy-set man with soot smeared across his brow and wearing a leather apron, met them at the large building's entrance. Inside, Link saw three young men also clad in leather aprons working the tempering fires.

"I think my mare needs new shoes," Link said after shaking Rith's hand and introducing himself. "Can you help her?"

Rith didn't examine Epona's hooves like the other smiths Link had dealt with in the past; instead he looked Link over as though trying to determine how much was in the Knight's purse. "Twenty-five a shoe," he said with a grunt.

Link blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Twenty-five rupees a shoe," Rith said.

"I don't think so," Link said. "The ones she's wearing now only cost ten."

Rith gave a knowing shrug. "And they didn't hold up long, now did they?"

"I'll give you twelve," Link offered.

"Twenty."

"Fourteen."

"Eighteen."

"Fifteen, or I'll pull her shoes out with my belt knife, let her go shoeless, and you don't get anything."

Rith narrowed his eyes and agreed. Once he was paid, the blacksmith grabbed Epona's reins and pulled her roughly inside for measuring and fitting.

"Be careful with her—"

A shout of pain came from inside Rith's shop.

"—she bites people she doesn't like," Link finished with a slight grin. He turned and started walking back up the main street. "Come on, Duena, let's see if we can find an inn to kill some time in."

"Are we to stay the night here?" the Goron asked.

Link shook his head. "I doubt it. Blacksmiths who are mean to Epona often are quick to get rid of her. I understand she can bite hard."

"You do not worry about leaving your beast with such a man?"

"I don't like it," Link said. "But it is necessary, and Epona has proven quite able to take care of herself in the past. Like many other women in my life, she's rather feisty."

After a short walk up two streets, Link and Duena found an inn named the Hidden Haystack. The two shared a dubious glance and walked in.

The common room was a simple rectangle design with unadorned cherry walls. A bar ran the length of the room across from the small foyer Link and Duena stood in. At many of the other inns and taverns Link had stayed, there were always raised platforms for bards or storytellers and an area cleared for dancers. The Hidden Haystack was not like those inns. Tables and chairs were clustered together haphazardly throughout the entire room as though the patrons sought no entertainment other than what the bartender served.

Several men, most already quite inebriated, turned in their seats and stools to look at the Hylian and Goron that had come to disturb their daily stupor. Beside him, Duena let free a low moan.

"Let's just find a table and stay quiet for the next couple of hours," Link said, and stepped into the common room.

He chose a small table left of the door and far enough in the corner to not be seen as a threat—he hoped, at least. Duena shuffled through the thin layer of moist sawdust that littered the floor and closely followed the Knight.

Link sat with his back to the entrance but kept the rest of the common room in view. Duena considered the weak looking wooden chair across from him for a moment, then slid the chair aside and sat on the floor. With her size, however, the Goron's knees still brushed the underside of the table.

Link glanced up at her and gave a reassuring smile. "I've been in worse places," he said lightly.

"I would not want to be you," Duena said earnestly.

A woman wearing a brown dress and a white blouse pushed away from the bar and started for their table. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, but loose hair jutted out in all directions in a fury of split ends. Darkness born of tiredness and hopelessness shaded the skin underneath her eyes. "What will you two, ah, gentles have?" she asked.

Link glanced at Duena, who just shrugged helplessly. "A pot of tea," he told the wench.

"That it?"

"Yes."

Duena said, "Might I have a bowl instead of a cup?" She held up her hands, showing fingers much too large to hold a teacup.

The wench blinked in confusion. "You want a bowl to drink out of?"

Duena nodded. "Yes."

"Make that two," Link said. "Give me a bowl instead of a cup, too."

The wench rolled her eyes and minutely sighed. "Okay," she said and walked toward the kitchen.

Duena considered the Knight with a strange expression. "You changed your order so mine would not appear strange?" she asked.

Link smiled. "We Hylians have saying: 'Never let a friend drink alone.'"

"I do not understand," she said. "I am Goron, not Hylian."

"Duena—" The inn's door was suddenly thrown open and the noise cut Link off. He turned in his chair to see a tall woman clad in black standing in the doorway. She was perhaps three or four years older than Link, but her eyes held a maturity that belied age. Dark hair fell to her shoulders and merged almost seamlessly into a like colored cloak. She was dressed as a traveler and Link noted her boots were creased and dirty with use.

Her blue eyes took in the room for a moment, and then she started for Link and Duena. Her cloak parted as she moved revealing a small crossbow hanging from her belt and a quiver full of quarrels.

"You are the newcomers," she said. Her voice slightly nasal and holding more than a little awe.

Link tipped his head in greeting. "That's right," he said. "My name is Link and my companion is Duena."

The woman rubbed her hands on the folds of her cloak, as though unsure what to do, then she stuck her right hand out. "Qulanda," she said. "Qulanda Rinter."

Link took her proffered hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Qulanda Rinter." He moved to pull his hand back but she was still gripping and pumping it. He smiled. "Can I help you with something?"

Her eyes went wide and she seemed to realize that she was still shaking hands. Qulanda pulled her hand back sharply and shuffled backward a couple of paces. "You are going into the Wasteland, right?" she asked.

Link glanced at Duena. "That's right," he said. "How did you know that?"

"News spread that newcomers were seen leaving Death Mountain, and that one of them stopped to have his horse shoed. There could be only one place you are going."

Link couldn't fault her logic. "Yes," he said, "we are heading for Canor."

"Then you will need a guide," Qulanda said, pride shining in her eyes. "For only four hundred rupees I shall see you safely through the Wasteland."

Link gave a light laugh and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, Qulanda, but I'm not looking for a guide. I don't even know where in Canor I am heading."

Desperation quickly replaced pride in her eyes. "All the more reason you should have someone along that can tell you what food is poisonous, point out trails that most cannot find, and fight off animals that could harm you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not interested," Link said.

"Three hundred rupees," Qulanda offered.

Link shook his head. "It's not the price—"

"Two-fifty," Qulanda said.

"I'm sure you're very skilled—"

"Leave the man alone," the serving wench put in, approaching the table with a pot of tea and two bowls. "He don't want your kind around him."

Qulanda looked from the server to Link. "Please, sir?" she said.

Link bit the inside of his mouth and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Crestfallen, Qulanda turned away and walked to the bar.

The teapot hit the tabletop with a resounding thud. The wench's lip turned upward in a sneer as she deposited the bowls next to the steaming pot. "That whore makes me sick," she said. "I don't blame ya for not wanting her company. If you'd like, I can give you the name of a real guide—one of us, if you know what I mean."

Link didn't, but nodded anyway. "I think I'll be fine, thank you."

The server turned to leave, but Duena stopped her with a raised finger. "Madam," she said, "why do you despise that woman so? She appeared normal to me."

The server spit on the floor. The wad of spittle in a clump of sawdust went well with the rest of the establishment's decor. "She's a vile blasphemer, that's what she is." The server walked away leaving a confused Knight and Goron behind.

* * *

The hours dragged on and one pot of tea became three. Link found he didn't mind drinking from a bowl—though Zelda's voice making comparisons to him and Glenn's dog was hard to get out of his head. Duena had to handle the pottery carefully with two fingers lest she shatter her bowl and spill hot liquid.

Link grew more relaxed as the unsavory clientele lost interest in him and Duena in favor of their next ale. He sat with his back against the grimy wall and his legs crossed at the ankles. His gaze held steady on Qulanda sitting at the bar with a tankard in front of her.

"You feel for that woman?" Duena asked.

Link shrugged. "I don't like to see people in pain."

"She is hurt?"

"I think so, yes." Link sighed and looked to the Goron. "One of the hardest lessons I ever learned was that I can't save everyone. Try too hard and more people will throw themselves at you looking for things they could easily get alone. After a time, you cease to be a rescuer and become a master to willing slaves."

"How can one determine when to act and when to not?" Duena asked, appearing genuinely interested for the first time since entering the Hidden Haystack.

"You just know," Link said. "You have to look for determining factors."

"Such as?"

"I don't have a list, Duena." Link poured himself another bowl of tea. "You just have to look at the situation and decide, and be willing to see your actions to their conclusions no matter what they may be. Sometimes the choices you make are the wrong ones for the right reasons...that is a whole other lesson."

Duena sat back on her heels and considered this. She opened her mouth to speak but the common room's door banging open cut her off. Three men entered the inn and stood for a moment in the foyer. The oldest of the three, and obvious leader, was a man of average height, bald save for several strands of hair combed from ear to ear, and wore a grim countenance as he took in the room. The men behind him were younger than their leader but were hardly youths. Both stood half a head taller than the leader and flexed their hands, as though preparing themselves to hit someone.

Link uncrossed his ankles and sat up straight in his chair. He felt his guard come up as the leader's hostile gazed passed over him.

The man, with his two enforcers in tow, walked across the common room to Qulanda. "Your time's up," he said to her. "My money now or you pay the price."

Qulanda turned on her stool to meet his unyielding stare. She said something to him that Link couldn't hear. But it obviously wasn't the answer the man was looking for; he shook his head and pointed a finger at her.

"I gave you three opportunities," he said. "You ain't gettin' a fourth. Pay me!"

Qulanda came to her feet and tried to back away from him. One of the two goons stepped behind her and stopped her easily. "I don't have it!" she said. "If I had enough money, I'd give it to you."

"I don't take excuses," he said. "Unless you have something else to barter with...?" He brushed her cheek with the knuckle of his hairy index finger. Several of the room's customers laughed; the serving wench was one of them.

Link grimaced with disgust. He looked to the bar and saw the burly bartender backing away from the scene. 'No help there,' the Knight decided.

"Look," Qulanda said, "I have fifty on me, let me give you that as a down payment." Her gazed frantically searched the room looking for a way out before meeting Link's stare. She looked away and slipped a hand into the folds of her cloak.

"I'll take whatever you got," the leader said, and stepped in close. "_Whatever_ you got."

Link followed the path of Qulanda's hand underneath her cloak, trying to guess what she was reaching for. Her hand stopped at her hip.

"Not here," he whispered. "Outside where the odds are better."

Qulanda couldn't hear him, and was not thinking about odds. She pulled her crossbow free and spun toward the young man blocking her from behind. She never made it. The second guard brought his arm up and knocked the crossbow away, sending it flying across the room. It hit the floor, slid, and came to a rest near Link's table.

The object of her attack grabbed her arms and held her in place. Qulanda struggled in the grip of the tall young man, but could not get enough leverage to launch an attack. She kicked at the leader several times, but the second goon came forward and drove a fist into her stomach. She doubled over, retching, and stopped fighting.

Link slid her crossbow over with the toe of his boot and clipped it to his belt. "Always go for the leader first," he muttered.

"Is that a determining factor?" Duena asked.

Link smiled tightly. "Yes, Duena, that is definitely a determining factor." He stood and cleared the Master Sword in its scabbard.

Duena started to climb to her feet. "What do I do, Knight?" she asked.

Link picked up his bowl of tea, being careful not to burn his fingers on the hot bottom. "Just stand behind me and look mean—like those two guys just did. Grab Qulanda and get her outside as soon as you can."

"Oh. Okay." She took up position at his right shoulder and followed him deeper into the common room.

"Gentlemen," Link said comradely approaching the three men. "There is no need for this little disagreement to slide into violence. Let me buy all of you a bowl of ale and we'll talk about this."

The leader made an obscene hand gesture at Link. "This ain't none of your business, newcomer," he said. "I can handle this fraggot."

"Nevertheless," Link said, stopping when the second guard was behind him and Qulanda was in front. "There is no need for you to waste you time with...one like her." He glanced at the man holding Qulanda and began judging aim. "I even hear touching one can make you like them."

The goon blanched. "I-is that true?" he asked.

The second guard shrugged. "I've heard of stranger things," he said.

Link threw his arms wide, tea sloshed out of the bowl in his left hand. "Who hasn't?"

The leader glared at the Knight of the Triforce. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he yelled.

Link shrugged and let the bowl dip down slightly. "No, I don't, but I do know this!" He drew back and threw the hot tea into the face of the guard holding Qulanda. The man screamed and stumbled back. Ducking to avoid spatters of hot liquid, Qulanda broke free.

The Knight quickly spun about and launched a sidekick at the second guard. His boot made solid contact and the man fell backward into a table. The table tipped over with his weight sending three tankards of ale flying and leaving three angry customers.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye warned Link to the punch aimed at his head. He ducked and sidestepped the leader's fist.

By the time he was again upright, several more patrons had joined the three angry customers and the fight was on. They raised chairs and brought them down on charging fighters and pushed tables aside to make room for a different type of dance. The cheers of happy drunks drowned the cries of pain. The bartender and wench quickly disappeared into the backroom.

Link glanced about, trying to regain his bearings and find Qulanda, and never saw the tankard aimed at him. The projectile hit his temple and sent him stumbling to the bar. He blinked away the mental fog in time to see the man that punched Qulanda running at him.

Link planted the palms of his hands against the bartop and braced himself. He leaned backward and doubled kicked at the charging man. Both his boots made contact and the man fell back into the fray.

Duena caught Link's attention from the entranceway and gestured for him to come to her. Qulanda was beside the Goron.

Link nodded and started for the front of the inn. Several pushes and shoves later, Link, Duena, and Qulanda stood outside the Hidden Haystack.

The Knight of the Triforce leaned against the side of the inn and drew a shaky breath. "Would you please tell me what that was about?" he said to Qulanda.

"I borrowed money from that man," the dark clad woman said. "I fell a little behind in paying him back...but he's not the type of business man that allows people to fall behind, if you know what I mean." Link understood but Duena did not.

Link touched his temple gingerly. "How far behind are you?"

"Several months."

"Yeah, people in that line of work don't normally like that." Link looked up then down the street. He'd been in his fair share of unsavory places and knew the fight would not stay in the tavern for long. He drew a deep breath, held it, and released it. There was no going back now. "Were you telling the truth about having fifty rupees?" he asked.

A cautious look came to Qulanda's eyes and she took a step back.

"I don't want to rob you," Link said. "I'm asking for a reason."

"Yes," she said. "That's all the money I have, though."

Link nodded. "If you use it to buy a horse and meet me at the blacksmith in an hour, I'll pay you three hundred rupees."

Qulanda blinked at him. "For what?"

Link ran his hand back through his hair. "Well, my guide is going to have to keep up with me in Canor. Or are you no longer interested in being my guide?"

"No! I'll find a horse and meet you," she said. "I won't disappoint you."

Link glanced at his two companions. He had planned on traveling through the Wasteland of Canor alone—even been looking forward to the time by himself to forget about his feelings for Zelda—but now he found himself in the company of a cryptic Hylian and an ingenuous Goron.

"I doubt you will," he said tiredly.


	13. Chapter Eleven

****

Chapter Eleven

The fire in the hearth of the Sheikah library had burned down to white ash and Glenn and Irbe had vanished into the outside world, giving Zelda and Impa privacy to conduct their search through the massive amount of information stored there.

So lost in the knowledge was Zelda that she didn't even notice the absence of the two soldiers. With one hand she flipped a tome closed, placed it back on the shelf, and reached for a second book with her other hand.

"I found something," Impa said quietly from across the chamber.

Zelda's head came up sharply. "What is it?" she asked.

Impa sat near the hearth with books taller than the length of her hand clustered around her. In her lap, a tome with 'Catalogue of Field Mages' gilded in gold on its binding. A date in less fancy lettering on its cover marked the book as two thousand years old.

"'Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy, a necromancer of little skill,'" Impa read aloud. "'Trained by Sorcerer Horate at the Calatia Tower of Magic one hundred years ago, he is currently in the land of Canor pursuing rumors of a depot of magical items lost during the fabled Knights of the Triforce/Si'Ra War.'"

Zelda raised her brows in surprise. "The Si'Ra? Could he have been looking for the Chamber of Tears?"

"Possibly," Impa replied, not looking away from the ancient text. "There's a footnote here, a letter from a Sheikah record keeper to field watcher, it asks if the Tower gave sanction to Thanos seeking this repository." She looked up and met Zelda's questioning gaze. "The answer: no."

Despite that the records were stating something that happened more than two millennia ago, Zelda shivered. The Tower of Magic, now the only teaching institution left due to lack of interest in becoming part of the old order of magic, had always held its disciples to a close, unyielding philosophy of what was and was not appropriate for mages to do and say. When mages disregarded the teachings of the Tower, they frequently caused great harm before being forcibly contained.

The last mage to declare himself above the doctrine of the Tower was the wizard Agahnim. Because of that disturbing fact, Zelda had developed a dislike of rogue mages that was just slightly stronger than her dislike of the Tower's ridged philosophy.

"Does it say if he ever found what he sought?" she asked.

Impa shook her head. "No, the record only goes for ten years of his life, and ends with the line: 'In conclusion, opinion of Sorcerer Thanos is that he is of no threat and is unnoticeable'."

"Well, that was obviously was a poor observation," Zelda blurted.

Impa closed the tome and set it aside. "Perhaps not, Princess. We have found no records to indicate Thanos succeeded in finding any lost repository. And even if the Eye of Thanos can accomplish the incredible feats described by that book in the palace's library, Thanos himself obviously never made use of it. He was little more than an inventor of several wand techniques and a ruler of a inconsequential kingdom on a rather unremarkable piece of land."

"An unremarkable piece of land that is now dead compared to the rest of the world," Zelda pointed out. "Why has your tone changed since the palace? Before you were convinced that this was a threat that had to be dealt with now."

Impa drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "I want you to consider, Zelda, that you might be too emotionally close to this. Link's quest for _his_ friend need not become your own."

"You mean how my personal quests have never become Link's?" Zelda asked dryly. "I owe this to him, Impa. And if Duncan has indeed rediscovered the Eye of Thanos, then we cannot delay in finding as much information as possible. Your vision predicted that much," she added.

Impa nodded. "I only fear by committing so many resources to this search," she said calmly, "that you might miss the signs of another threat neither of us has thought of yet. If we are wrong about Thanos being the key to my vision, then we may discover ourselves too deep in the hole to dig out of when the real threat arrives."

"I'm right about this, Impa," Zelda declared with a certainly that she'd not felt in a long time. She glanced again to the bookshelves. "I read something about Thanos taking on an apprentice late in his life...."

The search continued for several more hours. Impa more than once called for a rest, but Zelda would not give up. The young princess was fighting this battle for knowledge with the same vehemence that a Knight of the Triforce used when championing fairness.

Then, long after nightfall and the fire was rebuilt thrice, Zelda found the one name in a listing of all the magical apprentices from the year of Thanos' death that had the power to send ice down her spine. "Fegobves," Zelda said in a hollow tone.

She whirled toward the last Sheikah and threw the book at the blazing fire. "Thanos' apprentice was Fegobvesjarod!" Anger and sudden understanding mixed together in her gut and left a bitter taste on her tongue.

Moving with reflexes that denied her age and revealed her combat readiness, Impa stepped forward and caught the book before it could reach the flames. "Zelda!" she admonished. "These books are to be protected. You know that!"

Zelda was beyond hearing. She paced the long chamber as nervous energy forced her into motion. "Fegobvesjarod was Thanos' student," she said again. "Don't you know what that means?"

"Aside from the obvious?" Impa asked heatedly. "No. Who was Fegobvesjarod?"

"The true name of the last living Si'Ra that came to Hyrule deposed me and sent Link and I fleeing into Calatia."

"Oh," Impa said, too stunned to say anything more.

"The Urn of Agony," Zelda said, naming one of the artifacts the Si'Ra had used to try to restore his brothers from a living hell in the underworld. He claimed that a necromancer had crafted the object, unaware of its ultimate uses. Zelda now knew who that necromancer had been: Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy.

"B-but," Impa said, trying to keep up with Zelda's line of reasoning, "the Si'Ra were masters of magic. They knew things that we don't even know today. And they taught their craft to others—the bloody years after the Knight/Si'Ra War when the Knights and wizards had to track down and stop the students of the dark crafts are clear testimonials to that.

"Jarod, or Fegobvesjarod, whatever his name was, wouldn't have had to learn from a rogue necromancer."

"All right, then," Zelda said, still pacing, "maybe he didn't go to Thanos to learn. Maybe he had some other plan that involved Thanos, and assuming the roll of apprentice was the only way he could execute it.

"Maybe after eons in seclusion, or wherever he was after his light magic was pulled from him by the Knights and Triforce, he just needed a way to learn about the changes the world had gone through, and being a lowly apprentice was the best way to do that."

"I hear 'maybe' too often out of your mouth," Impa said. "You have no proof that this Fegobves was the same one that tried to kill Link. Perhaps Fegobves was a common name then."

"Perhaps is another word for maybe Impa," Zelda said curtly. "What more do you want? Why do I have to prove myself to you? Ever since we arrived here, you have cut my opinions down with a frown and disapproving glance. I feel as though you and I have been having only half a conversation since you returned from the Chamber of Tears. What are you not telling me?"

"I am always forthcoming with you," Impa said. "Never do you have to prove yourself to me. Your theories, however, do require proof. You are spinning out radical conjectures about Thanos being in league with Jarod without any solid proof. That is all I take objection to."

"Well, for the past several weeks you've been assuming Link and I have lain together without any solid proof," Zelda said, and immediately regretted it. Standing there, arguing with her old nanny, Zelda suddenly felt like a little girl fighting for a new bed hour instead of a princess struggling to find an answer to a potentially dangerous puzzle.

Silence hung heavy in the chamber. Impa blinked slowly as she took in what had just been said. Zelda wished that she were that little girl and not a princess because then she could run from the room and not feel even smaller than she already did. "Why do you think this?" the Sheikah finally asked.

"I-I'm sorry, Impa," Zelda said. "I had no right to assume—"

"_Why_ do you think this?" Impa asked again, hardening her tone. "Did Link say something to you before he left?"

"Of course not." Irritation quickly replaced embarrassment in Zelda. "What do you know about Link that I don't?"

Impa studied the young princess in the flickering flamelight for a long moment. She seemed almost ready to tell her, but instead said, "I think we should rest for the night." She turned away and walked toward the entranceway. "I'll recall the guards."

"Impa," Zelda said, halting the older woman. "I could make it an order."

"Yes, you could." Without looking back, Impa walked from the Sheikah library, leaving Zelda alone with her thoughts.

* * *

With nothing left to find in the old texts, Zelda ordered the group back to Hyrule Castle late the next day. They left the library the way they found it and traveled at the first rays of dawn. Halfway home, Impa silently consulted with the Princess for several minutes, then abruptly rode off to the south. Zelda hadn't offered any answers and Irbe knew it wasn't his place to ask questions. There was a lot of tension between the monarch and Sheikah, but it was their problem to work out, not his.

Back at the castle, Zelda was immediately surrounded by stable attendants eager to relieve her of her horse's reins, members of the palace guard, aids and advisers all talking at once. Sure that she was safe, Josia handed his horse off to a stablehand and turned away from the mass of people.

With a soldier's stealth, the captain moved away, unseen by all but Glenn Tarmag. The general knew where Irbe was going and did nothing to stop the younger man.

Josia Irbe, a man that had fought in countless battles, bathed his battle-ax in the blood of enemies of crown and state, and sacrificed far more than just his eye for Hyrule was shaking with fear. He moved through the high end of Hyrule Castle Town, past the rows of mansions for ambassadors and foreign dignitaries, and to the streets that housed squat, utilitarian homes. These were homes built not for comfort but for practicality. This was where Irbe lived when not patrolling the countryside. This was the reason he'd asked General Tarmag for an assignment near the palace.

Now, though, with his heart pounding like mad, Josia had no idea why he would want this every day.

It was Emil, his eldest daughter that first saw him approaching. "Daddy!" she squealed in a way that only a young girl of eight years could and ran to him. Camnell came next, though much slower and showing more bafflement than her older sister. Kairin didn't approach at all. The youngest of Irbe's three daughters didn't move from her place on the tiny lawn.

Josia threw his long arms wide and gathered his running daughters to him. As they returned his embrace, he closed his eyes and instinctively drew a deep breath. The feel of his girls brought to him a glimpse of normalcy. For a moment, he could see what it must be like to live as a father, to see his children when they were happy and when they were sad.

The gentle grunt of a woman clearing her throat shattered that dream. Irbe opened his eyes and stood to his full height. Maya Irbe was tall for a woman, but still easily dwarfed by her husband. She wore a faded pink dress with an apron that might have been white before a multitude of unidentifiable stains soiled it. Her hair was short and partly covered by a bandana. Years of hardship had lined her once smooth brown skin. To Josia's eyes, those wrinkles on her face only added character and a matured beauty to the woman he fell for so many years before.

Today, however, her countenance was in sharp contrast to the gleeful girl he had promised commitment to a lifetime earlier.

Kairin came up behind her mother and hid herself behind the folds of Maya's skirt. The little girl peered around her mother's legs and regarded Josia with cautiousness born out of a short lifetime of warnings about strangers. She saw her father as a stranger.

Irbe's dream of normalcy slipped further away.

"You're home," Maya said neutrally. "For how long this time, Josia? A week? A day?"

Irbe gave a smile that at one time would have been disarming to her. "I'm trying for an assignment at the palace."

Maya gave a tight-lipped smile in return. "Go inside, girls," she said to the children watching their parents with trepidation. "Set the table for dinner; be sure to include a place for your father. Take Kairin with you."

The children did as they were told, and had the self-awareness to close the door behind them when they went inside so they wouldn't hear the yelling.

"I know you're mad—" Irbe began.

"I'm not mad," Maya put in. "I'm tired. How many times have we done this, Josia? You come home, play father for a little while, and then leave again for Goddesses knows where and we don't hear from you until you decide to repeat the process again. I'm tired of it, and so are the kids.

"They don't have a father; they have an occasional visitor."

For that, Captain Josia Irbe had no answer. His wide shoulders slumped and he hung his head. "I'm doing the best I can to correct that," he said.

"I know you are," Maya said. "But it's not enough—it wasn't when Emil was born, and it's not going to be enough now." Her expression softened slightly and for a moment the girl he'd fallen for peeked through the hard mask of disappointment. She reached out and touched his bare shoulder. "Come inside, husband, and have some dinner."

Irbe gave a numb nod and followed her inside. So much for normalcy.

* * *

Impa dismounted Shadow half a mile from the edge of the township and left the mare there in the outskirts. Pulling the hood of her riding cloak up, the Sheikah walked the rest of the way to Calbor.

The seaside community was relatively quiet at this late afternoon hour. Children clustered at street corners playing games and committing minor mischief. Laundry and rugs hung from balconies and blew gently with the ever-present salty breeze. The harbor at the end of the town was empty; the town's men were still out on their fishing vessels.

Weaving magic silently and with the skill of decades of experience, Impa drew a spell around herself that kept eyes from noticing her. She was in no mood to come up with an explanation or cover story for her presence here.

Impa held her cloak close to her body and moved silently down the streets of Calbor. Her magically enhanced senses searched for indication of magic in use. If Duncan did indeed possess the Eye, then why select this town to alter? Was he still grappling with the power and simply selected this place at random, or was there a greater purpose to it all? She strongly suspected the latter was the case but could not prove it.

All about the Sheikah people passed without seeing her; their gazes simply moving over her whenever she was in their direct line of sight. One little girl that was running shoeless near the town's general store looked in Impa's direction for a long moment before finally looking away with a shrug. Impa took a second glance at that girl and saw a small spark of magical potential within her.

Walking past the general store, Impa hoped that little girl never sought training at the Tower of Magic to explore her potential. In her opinion, a bigger collection of hypocrites had never gathered outside of the Tower of Magic.

As silent and efficient as an assassin, Impa walked through the entire town. She moved from rich to poor areas, glancing down every side street and alley between, and could find nothing to indicate why that fool Duncan had used the Eye of Thanos here. She hoped that Link and Zelda had been wrong in their assessment of what happened here, but knew in her blood that they hadn't been wrong. Something had changed only to warp back to its original state. Why?

There were too many unknowns for Impa to even begin formulating a hypothesis. Perhaps history hadn't altered enough down that particular path—or maybe it even changed too much—and Duncan had to reassess which events to change. Perhaps the limits of the Eye were greater than what the book at Hyrule Castle suggested? Impa wasn't ready to gamble on that hopeful thought, though.

A sudden tickle of awareness struck Impa and she realized someone was watching her. Turning sharply around and reaching for the Sheikah dagger at her belt, Impa spotted a woman standing in the mouth of a side street watching her. She was a dark skinned woman, bent with age, and clad in old robes.

Instantly, Impa sensed the reason why this woman was able to see her. The woman had a natural ability to see and understand magic. It was a rare gift that, while it was more than what most people had, was still greatly under what a spell caster possessed. Probably without even realizing it, this woman had unraveled Impa's cloak spell.

"Hello," Impa said neutrally. "May I help you with something?"

The old woman's countenance immediately changed from curiously interested to timidly bashful. She looked down and shuffled away. "No." Her voice was grainy and sounded as though it received little use. "I'm sorry to have stared. I didn't mean to trouble you."

Impa narrowed her eyes and reached out with her mind. Knowing now what to avoid, she slipped a spell around the old woman without it being dispelled. What she learned confirmed her suspicions and offered a clue as to why Duncan chose this township to experiment on.

"Perhaps you can help me," Impa said. "I'm looking for the relatives of a man that once lived here. His name was Duncan. Would you happened to know that name?"

The woman's eyes widened and began to water. "He was my brother," she whispered. "I'm Nara Azar."

Impa quickly engineered a surprised smile. "He mentioned you," she lied. "It's wonderful to finally put a face to the woman I heard so much about."

Nara walked to Impa. "Did you know him at the Tower of Magic?" she asked.

A mental image of a Sheikah studying at the Tower of Magic suddenly sprang into Impa's mind and she had to suppress a shudder of disgust. It would be Doom's Day before she ever set foot on the Tower's grounds. Nevertheless, Impa said, "That's right. Your brother and I were students together. We were quite close."

Nara's eyes came alive like a hungry man eyeing food. "Oh, I'm so glad he had friends close to him in the end. He only mentioned a fellow student named Givoi, and the family worried that he didn't have any other friends."

'The end?' Impa wondered. She couldn't imagine anyone willingly befriending the cantankerous old man she knew, but decided to continue the lie. "He was very popular at the Tower. Very well liked by everyone."

Nara smiled. "He always was a friendly soul."

'No he wasn't,' Impa thought but said, "That was Duncan—friend to everyone. We worked together on a project that required us to travel to southern Calatia and we became acquaintances while on the road."

"Were you able to attend his funeral, or did the wizards prevent even classmates from attending?" Nara asked.

"His funeral?!" Even Impa's Sheikah training couldn't prevent her surprise from showing. The clues came together and she suddenly saw what Duncan was trying to change. Light, was that old fool completely out of his mind?

Suspicion shaded Nara's face. "You didn't know? How could you have not known?" She paused. "Tell me again how you knew my brother."

Annoyance flared in Impa. She had other problems to juggle without having to answer questions from Duncan's sister. In a blink she stepped forward, pressed the first two fingers on her right hand to Nara's temple, and said, "Go to sleep right now."

The spell took effect before Nara could even begin to voice protest. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed and she started to crumple to the ground.

Keeping her right hand against Nara's head, Impa wrapped her left arm around the woman's shoulders and eased her to the ground. "When you wake, you will not remember meeting me," Impa said, her voice holding a slight echo. "Rest well and dream of your brother."

After making sure the shadows safely concealed Nara, Impa drew her cloak spell around herself again and started for the edge of town. She had a lot to consider now, and possibly little time in which to decide how to proceed. At least she now knew that her assessment of Zelda's priorities was wrong. They could not allow Duncan to possess the power to alter history, and it might take all the power that she, Zelda, and Link commanded to reach him in time.


	14. Chapter Twelve

A/N: I typically don't insert additional notes, but I made an exception in this case because it recently came to my attention that the Internet address to the map I drew for this story hasn't been visible for awhile. I apologize for that lapse. The map can be found at /Map7.gif. There is a "m" after the "co" but for this to appear on , I had to remove it. Please take corrective action when entering the address into your browser.

I also wanted to express my thanks to the people kind enough to follow this story and to those that have left reviews. Thank you for your continued readership and for taking the time to express an opinion on something I've written. To those that are hoping for more of a Zelda focus in this chapter: sadly you are going to have to wait for the next chapter. I needed to get Link sent on his way, but I will return to Zelda in chapter thirteen. Thank you.

****

Chapter Twelve

"Hyrule," Link repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "I want to send this letter to the big ol' castle in the north part of Hyrule. What is so complicated about that?"

The post officer behind the counter—the third Link had dealt with in the hour and a quarter he'd been at the courier building—sighed and adjusted the brim of his cap.

"As I've told you, we only have one carrier that goes to that area, sir," the short post officer with too close together eyes said. "It has to be an emergency to just send one letter at a time. After all, what if something happens to the carrier en route? Then we wouldn't have any contact with Hyrule."

Link blinked at the man. "But they're birds," he said. "How much danger do they face? Beak bleeds from the altitude?"

Around him were more than twenty cages filled with squawking birds of every shape and size. Feathers fluttered through the air as the carrier birds took it upon themselves to clean debris from the bottom of their cages. The room with thick with the stink of too many animals clustered together.

"Just leave your post with me, sir," the officer said, "and when we have sufficient mail for Hyrule, it shall go out."

"By then Zelda's granddaughter could be ruling!" Link sighed and leaned heavily against the worm-chewed countertop. "Okay," he said. "You win. What constitutes an emergency around here? What would it take to get this letter to Princess Zelda sent out today?"

The officer with eyes that were too close together thought for a moment. "I suppose," he drawled, "if we had enough to cover the purchase of a new bird should something happen to this one, I could arrange for the post to leave tonight."

Link closed his eyes, took three deep breaths, and conceded the battle. He paid the abundant amount of money the officer asked for, and handed his letter over. The letter, sealed with a wax impression of the Master Sword's hilt so Zelda would have no doubt he wrote it, detailed his trek through the underground cave and his arrival in Visola. He told her what he knew about Canor, where he was, and that he was heading into the wasteland.

Link weighed whether or not to send the letter for a long while, but finally decided that to not contact Zelda would be childish and serve little purpose. It was only a letter after all. He wondered what her reaction to it would be. Was she even still looking for information on Thanos and the Eye? Probably, he decided.

Leaving the courier shop, Link gratefully breathed in odor free air and started for the blacksmith. He had a sudden mental image of Zelda reading his letter, pursing her lips slightly, and handling the heavy parchment with her delicate, soft fingers.

He shook his head to clear away that image. "Light, Link," he said, "you're not _that_ far gone. Keep daydreaming like that and before you know it, you'll be talking to yourself. What would you do, then?"

He knew that he didn't have to be with Zelda to be happy—or any woman, really. Notions of love that one could not live without were the dreams of innocent youths...He just didn't think leaving Hyrule would be so hard this time around. Link doubled his pace to the blacksmith; he suddenly wanted to get as deep into the Wasteland of Canor as possible before night fell.

People on the street eyed him cautiously as he walked through the town. For he was no longer a novel newcomer, but a strange person that brought a sense of trouble and difference to a world balanced on the point of a quill. Link wondered if the people around him knew just how precarious their stability was. In his short stay in Visola, he had only seen a small handful of young residents—he assumed the rest were spread out across the world earning money for family here in Visola.

Link knew that with each generation, the money flow into the town would diminish. Boys and girls away from Visola would meet and marry outsiders, and their descendents would not likely carry on the tradition of supporting this tiny community.

By his best guess, Visola would be completely dead within fifty years. Unless they developed some sort of economy for themselves, they would die just as all those barren trees in the wasteland had died. And looking around at the community and the area, Link had no idea what these people even had to build an internal economy.

"Can't save everyone," Link muttered as he walked.

* * *

Qulanda moved through her small two-room home with a purpose. Despite Duena's assurance that Link wouldn't enter Canor without them, Qulanda didn't want to waste a second of the hour he gave her to be ready. She hastily threw clothes and supplies into a travel pack. She stopped at a cupboard, removed several pickling spices, and threw them in the pack as well.

Shouldering the pack, Qulanda walked into her bedroom and lifted off the bedpost a simple leather thong with a worked metal charm dangling from it. The charm was simple in design and tempered into the Hylian grapheme of P. In the absence of the one that gave it to her, the charm was now Qulanda's most prized possession. She never ventured into Canor without it over her heart.

She slipped the leather thong over her head, gripped the charm, and said a silent prayer to the Holy Spirits of Light. She prayed for them to guide her on the journey now before her, and for them to keep Penda safe wherever she might be.

That done, she gave one last glance at her home and then turned and walked away without looking back. Duena was waiting for her outside the door. Together they started up the street toward the smithy.

Excitement filled Qulanda. She had strong feeling that this Link person would be a different sort of charge than the occasional hunting party that she normally guided through the wasteland. With the currency she made from this job, she could afford the trip down the Werth River to Cape Town. From there she would search and find Penda—all would then be right again.

* * *

The hostile stares did not decrease as he neared the blacksmith; in fact, they seemed to increase. Duena and Qulanda were waiting in front of the smithy when Link approached. Behind them were Epona, looking well and pleased with herself, and a second mare. Qulanda's horse—Link assumed it to be hers—was black with a splash of white on her nose and another on her hindquarters. The mare was obviously nervous and jumpy, a sharp contrast to Epona's calm countenance.

"Are you ready?" Qulanda asked without preamble. "Can we leave?"

"Hey, baby, make a new friend?" Link scratched behind Epona's left ear. He nodded to Qulanda and said, "I'm ready. Have you two had some problems that you're so eager to leave?"

"You could say that," Qulanda said.

"Those two men have been verbally accosting us," Duena offered. "They have made use of several slurs that I have never before heard."

Qulanda glared at the men Duena indicated standing several paces away, both failing miserably to look inconspicuous. They were lengthy with muscular arms that hinted at a past of heavy labor. One had a scar running down his cheek that forever twisted his face into an ugly grimace.

"Okay," Link said, picking up on whom those insults were most likely aimed at. "Let's go." He gathered Epona's reins and began walking toward the north end of town. Duena fell in step behind Epona and Qulanda came last, her mare following close behind. The clop of eight horseshoes against the cobblestones echoed up and down the narrow street.

"So how'd you get your horse shoed so fast?" Link asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Avin belonged to Rith," Qulanda answered. "He was eager to get rid of her and gave me a good price."

"That's nice." Link nodded thoughtfully for a moment. "Duena, are those men still shadowing us?"

The Goron glanced back. "Yes."

"Light."

"Are they going to escort us all the way to the edge of town?" Qulanda said, exasperated. "Why can't they just leave me alone?"

"You're the guide, Qulanda," Link said, "why don't you come up here and take the point position. Take Epona's reins, Duena."

"What are you going to do?" Qulanda asked, quickening her pace to come up beside Link.

"Nothing if they don't act first," the Knight of the Triforce answered, falling back to the last place in line. He cleared the Master Sword in its scabbard.

The squat buildings of Visola finally gave way to the featureless land Link and Duena had observed from the mouth of the cave complex. Wheat like plants, weeds most likely, rose to mid-calf and quivered slightly at the touch of the breeze sweeping in from the great expanses of Canor. About twenty paces from Visola's edge the terrain sloped downward in an incline. Duena had to choose her steps carefully, but Link, Qulanda, and their young mares had no trouble navigating the pitch.

Once at the base of the incline, Link felt more than heard something shoot by his head. In a blink, the Master Sword came free and the Knight spun about in the direction the object had come.

The two men shadowing the group stood laughing at the top of the incline. The one with the scar drew his arm back and let free another object.

Link stepped smoothly to the side and brought his sword up. The blade of legend made contact with something hard and knocked it to the ground. A stone. The two villagers were stoning them.

Seeing one of their missiles plucked from the air seemed to amuse the two men even more. They drew back together and let free three more stones.

Duena gasped, but the Master Sword's magic was already flowing. The world faded into shadow around Link and he was moving. The Blade of Evil's Bane flashed and a double crunch sounded.

Link was spinning before the realization that the sword had only stopped two of the three stones thrown caught up with him. His left hand released the sword's hilt and snapped out to the side. Impact jarred his arm and made his hand instinctively close.

In his fist he held the third stone.

The two men stopped laughing and their eyes widened. They backed away from the edge of the incline.

"Let's get the Light out of here," Link said, magic still thickening his tone.

They resumed walking and the two men did not follow. Link waited until he was sure they were out of range of anymore stones before sheathing the Master Sword. It was harder to force the magic back down this time. At times it seemed as if the sword's power had a mind of its own, and that it did not approve of Link's recent denial of his birthright.

"Well," Duena said breaking the silence between the group, "that was rude."

And that seemed to sum it up for all of them.

* * *

"Welcome to the Wasteland of Canor," Qulanda said, throwing her arms wide.

Link turned a complete circle and took in the sights around him, or, rather, the lack of sights. Nothing appeared to be living for hundreds of miles. Visola was at their backs and before them lay miles and miles of grayish-blue sand, broken only by the dead husks of what were once grand trees. The bark on these trees was black and chipped at the edges as though a devastating blight had swept through and killed all that it touched. It was an eerie forest of death.

But Link had never heard of blight doing so much damage before. If not for the ghosts of the trees, he would have thought Canor to be a desert formed by nature. Standing amongst it, however, Link knew this was not natural; something had _caused_ this. There was a faint odor of magic in the air, a smell and feeling akin to when a bad thunderstorm was approaching in the springtime. It wasn't strong enough to be bothersome, but it was there.

"Truth be told," Link said, "I feel like I've been in Canor for the past few days."

Qulanda scoffed. "For as bad as all that was, the Wasteland of Canor is exponentially more difficult. It is said only fools come here willingly."

"Yet you lead the fools," Link said wryly.

Qulanda gave a slight smile but quickly sobered. "Where are you going here? We must plan our paths early—there are many things to be avoided here."

"Have you ever heard of the name Thanos?" Link asked.

"The name, yes," Qulanda said, "but nothing more. If you are looking for this person—"

"I'd have a long wait," Link put in. "He died a few thousand years ago. I have reason to believe that a man I _am_ looking for, Duncan, is heading for, or is already at, Thanos' palace.

"On my old maps there is a small township listed as Vless—is that still here?"

"Yes, but Vless isn't a town," Qulanda said, "it's the name of a people."

"Would they remember where Thanos built his palace?" Link asked.

"If it had been built in Canor, yes, they would be the people to ask. They were old even before the coming of the devastation."

Link nodded. "Okay, I'll try there first."

"It is also the last place to find shelter and food before venturing into the extreme north of the wasteland," Qulanda said. "If the person you're looking for is stupid enough to head for the wilds above Canor, then he or she would have to stop there."

"How long?" Link asked.

"Well"—Qulanda drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly—"if we traveled directly north, we'd reach the point where the Werth meets the Jidra. A small harbor city is located there, and we could buy passage down the Werth. However, that city is a sanctuary for cutthroats and thieves. It makes Visola look like an abbey."

"Is there anyway to avoid sailing the river?" Duena asked. "My people fear water and cannot swim."

"We could easily walk to the Vless," Qulanda said. "If we moved west and north from here, we will past the Baths and approach a narrow section of the Werth that is just past a region of the river called the Heavy, a point where it spirals downward in many whirlpools and rapids. We could cross there, at the gentle part."

"Is there anyway around the Werth?" Link asked.

"There might be if we traveled far to the east," Qulanda answered. "By crossing the Jidra we might be able to avoid the Werth River completely, but doing that would add at least three or four months to the trip. Sailing would be the easiest and safest way."

Link glanced at Duena and gave her a reassuring nod. "We'll take the northwestern path to the gentle part of the river," he said.

"We must travel quickly, then," Qulanda told him. "There are many legends of dangerous beasts that patrol the southern reaches of the Werth Valley. It is said the Werth keeps them to the south, and I have lived here long enough to know better than to discount such stories as foolish folklore."

Duena nodded her silent agreement.

* * *

The group walked several miles into the wasteland before stopping for the night. Darkness fell quickly, leaving a moonless sky filled with stars, many faint and visible only during the new moon.

Duena sheathed her large knife and deposited the tree branches she'd cut up next to the small fire Link had built. The weather, even this far north, was not yet cold enough for a fire, but Link did not know what sort of animals lived in Canor and he didn't want to find out without the added light of a fire. The logs were long dead and burned quickly, and gave off an unsettling musky odor.

Qulanda removed a small cooking pot from her saddlebag, filled it partly with water from her waterskin, dropped in tea leaves wrapped within cheesecloth, and placed it on a stone in the center of the blaze.

The two Hylians ate a dinner of dried fruit and cheese in silence. The events of the day, combined with the enormity of Canor, seemed to catch up with all of them and exhaustion was pervasive. Not long after setting up camp, Link and Qulanda were unpacking their bedrolls.

"Could you take the first watch, Duena?" Link asked. "Wake me in a few hours and I'll relieve you."

"As a Goron, I require less sleep than you Hylians," Duena said. "I could watch for the entire night if you so wish."

Link shook his head. "No, we are all in this together and we all take a watch."

"As you wish." Duena hefted three thick logs and placed them in the fire. "I shall be over there—"she pointed to a spot several yards from the edge of the firelight—"where I can see the entire camp."

Link nodded his approval of her selection of a watch point and bade her goodnight. The Goron moved off into the darkness.

Qulanda stared at him with a guarded expression. "The second watch is the hardest, you know," she said.

"Yes."

"Why take it, then?" she asked. "Why not order Duena or myself to watch second?"

Link settled himself in his bedroll. "Well, let's just say I'm nice," he said.

Qulanda remained unmoved. "Are you sure it wasn't because of pity?"

"Pity for whom?"

"Me," she said. "You gave me the easiest watch. That can either mean it was out of pity or distrust. Which one was it?"

Link smiled slightly and turned to her. "Neither. Duena is watching first because, despite what she says, she needs sleep just like the rest of us. I'm watching second because I'm used to it and my body is no longer shocked by the disrupted sleep cycle. And you are watching last because you are the guide to this area and I thought it would be better for all of us if you were the best rested."

Qulanda nodded thoughtfully. "I knew there was more to you than what you let other see."

Link shrugged. "I do try. Goodnight, Qulanda." He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

"Aren't you going to ask why the people of Visola enjoyed humiliating me so?"

"Do you want to tell me?" Link said without opening his eyes.

Qulanda was silent for a long moment, as though debating whether his kindness was just another front to a much deeper personality. "Not yet," she answered finally.

"Then I won't ask," Link said, giving a nod to close the subject.

He heard Qulanda lay down then, but her breathing did not become regular with sleep for a very long time. Link let her stew in her secrets, knowing that she would come to him or Duena when she was ready. Months ago the Si'Frant had used his initial trust against him, and he had vowed to never give such open trust again, but something about Qulanda told him that she wasn't a threat to him or his quest.

He just hoped that instinct wasn't as wrong about her as it had been about the Si'Frant.

The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was a short cry of pain in the distance as a nocturnal predator found its prey.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

****

Chapter Thirteen

The soles of Zelda's slippers slid across the white marble floor of her private office as she paced. Gaudy and lavish, Zelda kept this room for stately business that was too confidential for public hearing in the throne room. The office was spacious and well lit with oil lamps and a hearth. Several windows and skylights looked out upon the inky blackness of night. Raindrops caught the flickering candlelight as they ran down the windowpanes in long, wet streaks.

A heavy ash desk stood on thick legs in the rear of the chamber, across from the desk were double glass doors that opened to a small garden terrace. That grove was tiny compared to her private garden deeper in the palace, but did contain a small belvedere for quiet contemplation.

Zelda came to a stop next to one of the many windows. She stared at her reflection and watched as raindrops fractured the mirror image.

"Your Highness?" a deep voice asked from behind her.

"I'm sorry, Chancellor Deverell," she said, turning. "Continue please."

The Hylian minister of state, a tall man nearing his senior years wrapped in dark velvet robes fastened with gold buttons, glanced to the daily report in his hands. "The Farian ambassador is still unhappy with the latest trade agreement through the Gathland Wetlands. He is demanding a thousand rupees per caravan."

"Are tariffs on Farian wheat still set at three hundred rupees?" she asked not looking away from the nighttime storm.

"They are."

Zelda turned then. Her blue-eyed gaze hard. "Have your state office get word that I am going to raise them to five hundred."

"As you command, Highness." Deverell bowed slightly at the waist. "Is it wise, though, to provoke Faran that way? They do control the known roads through Gathland."

Zelda walked to her oversized desk and began skimming over reports from other offices of her government. "Faran is also a small country and the Farian people need us much more than we need them. I don't have time for engaging in political foreplay right now. Once they think I'm going to raise tariffs, offer the ambassador a deal paying six hundred rupees per caravan. Do it immediately; don't let the ambassador have time to discuss the matter with his superiors.

"I'll sign the new deal tomorrow evening."

Deverell smiled faintly. "As you command, Highness," he said again. "If it pleases you, that concludes my report for this evening."

"Thank you, Chancellor."

"Thank you, Princess." He turned and started to walk from the office.

She waited until the chancellor was almost to the entranceway before calling his name.

"Yes, Princess?"

Zelda rounded the grand desk and sat in her high-backed chair. "Close the door."

Deverell did as she commanded and squared his stance, ready for whatever she might need.

"I require a SWOT evaluation," she said. As one of the most brilliant political minds in the palace, part of Deverell's job was to analyze allies and enemies and prepare evaluations of their strengths, weaknesses, opportunities for exploitation, and threat levels.

His shined, crease free boots clipped against the hard floor as he walked to the front of the desk. "Of course, Highness. Whom do you need analyzed?"

"Impa."

To his credit, Deverell didn't blanch completely. "Impa?"

"You heard me, Chancellor. Speak."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Impa is a woman of great inner strength and fervent loyalty." Shock was at first audible in his voice, but he quickly fell into a comfortable, factual tone. "Her weaknesses, however, like those of most people, are the same as her strengths.

"Her intense self-reliance often distances her from potential allies. Such staunch loyalty would also blind her to larger schemes brewing within those she considers above reproach."

"Opportunities," Zelda said. "How is such a person useful to me?"

"As a personal protector," Deverell said, "she is quite useful. Loyalty to you alone neutralizes any chance of treachery, and, by having only one charge, her focus is narrow enough to not be hindered by a lack of vision for greater threats."

"Threats," Zelda said. "Does Impa pose any threat to me?"

Deverell considered that question for a long moment. Intellect shone in his eyes as he seriously weighed the possibility of Impa as a threat. "Not to you personally," he finally said.

"Explain that. Does she pose a threat to anyone here?"

"Because of her narrow focus, if Impa were to interpret someone as a threat to you or your goals, she is quite capable of killing without guilt. In fact," he added, "her personality would demand it.

"The Sheikah mindset is one of violence, secrets, and exertion of strength above others. That combined with the love I know she feels for you, would allow her a free conscience to do whatever she felt was necessary to keep you from harm."

Zelda nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Chancellor. That will be all."

"If I may speak freely, Princess," Deverell said. "You are in many ways your father's daughter. Twenty-nine years ago, while you were still rosy with afterbirth, King Harkinian asked me for a similar evaluation of Impa. He knew, and feared, the future that lay ahead of you.

"In an effort to provide you with all the resources you would need, he tore away the old staff of this castle and replaced it with ranks of soldiers. I, like my counterpart Glenn Tarmag, am a soldier. A soldier of the mind and of state. Impa is but another type of soldier in your army.

"Harkinian died regretting many of the choices he made during his life. Do not repeat the same mistakes. Do not forget that this army is here for you to command. We may have faltered in the past, but that shall never happen again."

Zelda drew a deep breath. "Thank you, Deverell."

* * *

Sometime later, deep in the evening, Zelda left her office bound for her personal chambers. She had already sent word ahead to have a hot bath prepared and just the thought of relaxing in the tub and forgetting about tariffs and magical stones that could alter time was enough to pull her up the main staircase.

Outside the storm was growing worse. Lightning now flashed beyond the windows and skylights, followed seconds later by rumbles of thunder. The constant pinging of raindrops against glass was developing into a familiar sound in Hyrule Castle. Not that she minded of course. Poor regions of Hyrule still felt the aftereffects of the drought suffered a few years ago and every drop of rain helped put those effects behind them.

Around her several soldiers also began moving. In the absence of a guard unit assigned specifically to her, Link and Glenn had devised a 'rolling detail' that covered several levels of the palace in rotating shifts. Coincidentally, they seemed to rotate positions to always be in the same area she was. It had not escaped Zelda's notice that Captain Irbe now served on one of those shifts.

A personal guard detail was just not something that Zelda had enough time to think about right now. She had struck a diplomatic peace with Tarmag's wishes by not ordering the rolling detail away. Maybe once Link had returned, this Eye of Thanos affair was resolved, and more time had passed from Warren's death, she would consider again having a private guard.

Wishing again for more hours in the day to accomplish all that needed looking after, Zelda rounded the last corner before the entrance to her chambers.

"Your Highness!" a youthful voice called behind her.

Zelda turned to see a man dressed in the blue trousers and doublet of a Royal Messenger. He was winded and his round face red with exertion. "I have a message for you, Princess." He reached her and immediately dropped to one knee, head down.

"Rise," she said tiredly. What could possibly have happened now? "Rise and breathe deeply, son. Now what was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

The messenger pushed himself up and reached into the pouch at his waist. "A message from the Knight of the Triforce, ma'am. The courier administrator thought you would want to see it right away." He held out a lettered folded many times and sloppily sealed with a large amount of wax.

"He was correct." Zelda took the letter and felt her mood suddenly shift from exhaustion to elation. More than a month had passed since Link rode past the gates of Hyrule Castle bound for the Wasteland of Canor, and to suddenly hear from him was a delightful surprise. "You're dismissed for the evening."

The courier bowed and quickly departed.

Not bothering to wait until she reached her chambers, Zelda used two fingers to tear through the wax sealing the letter. She felt a small twinge of magic as the wax gave way. He had used the Master Sword as a press.

The letter was several days old by its date. After wetting her fingers with her tongue to better turn the pages, Zelda pursed her lips and began to read Link's smooth cursive. He had sent it from a small village she had never heard of just beyond Death Mountain. He asked about her search for information on Thanos and if Impa had shared any of her secrets. She read about his trials with the Goron tribe and about procuring a guide to steer him through the wasteland. Of that, she was glad. It made her feel better about him being in Canor that he had people with him that knew the area. Perhaps they would hasten his search and he would return to her sooner.

"'I may journey to a town named Vless in central Canor,'" she read aloud. "'Until I'm there, you will not be able to contact me by post. If you have any information for me, you'll have to find another way, princess.'" She smiled in spite of herself at the use of his sobriquet for her. "'Love, Link.'"

Leaning heavily against the castle's cold stone wall, Zelda read the letter again and sighed dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Link, but I have nothing for you.

"The same unbroken circle."

* * *

Zelda dragged her hand over the surface of the water, letting the heat prickle her skin. She stood in a small chamber adjacent to her living and sleeping apartments. A gold inlaid tub filled with hot water from the springs underneath the palace stood in the center of the room. The air was heavy with the cleanly smells of soap and fragrance oils.

"That will be all," she said over her shoulder, "you are dismissed for the evening."

The handmaids and water bearers behind her bowed in unison and backed from the room. "Yes, Princess." The chamber door shut with an almost inaudible click and she was alone. Alone with the hundreds of thoughts and questions still unanswered.

Zelda absently reached back and began undoing the buttons of her dress. It took a few minutes of painstaking picking, but she managed to open enough to release the snug garment. Most times she relied on her maids to help her undress, but tonight she wanted to be alone and didn't want their attendance any longer than necessary. She eagerly shrugged the dress off her shoulders and let it drop in a pile of expensive silk on the floor. She gathered the dress and left it neatly folded on a small stool near the tub.

There had been, Zelda silently admitted, a decided advantage to wearing trousers and a tunic again. She had returned the trousers and boots to the back of her wardrobe, but kept Link's tunic up front. She didn't know quite why, just that it was comforting to have that small part of him close whenever the world became too demanding.

Her silk shift and stockings quickly followed the dress onto the stool, and Zelda again regarded the steaming water. She lifted her legs over the edge of the tub one at a time and slid into the water. Pins and needles danced over her skin when it came into contact with the hot liquid, but she quickly became accustomed to the heat. She settled back against the grooves carved especially for her body's shape and sighed happily.

Zelda closed her eyes and let her arms float out to the sides of the tub. She stretched, letting the warmth work through tired muscles and old bruises. Her breasts felt buoyant in the fragrant oil scented water.

This was her favorite time of the day. The gold inlaid tub was hardly the most extravagant thing in her life, but it was the only thing she let herself truly enjoy. Here, underneath the surface of the slightly-too-hot water, she could pretend that all was well, that a nation wasn't waiting on the other side of the door expecting her to know the answers to all questions that arose.

Here she could be just Zelda instead of Princess Zelda.

She wondered if Link had something like this in his life. Probably not, she decided; he had found ways to harvest humor and satisfaction from the bothersome demands of life and did not need to escape them.

Maybe when he returned from Canor she would introduce him to the pleasures of soaking in a hot bath. Images of doing just that sprang unbidden to her mind and she quickly banished them. That sort of thinking would not help her right now.

Her makeshift army of scholars and library caretakers had continued the search through the castle's books and maps while she was at the Sheikah library, but they had not turned up anything new. They knew nothing more of where Thanos' palace was located or if that was indeed where Duncan was going with the Eye. She felt that they were back at square one, or rather, that they had never left the first square.

She hoped Link was faring better on his quest in the Wasteland of Canor than she was on hers in Hyrule.

According to his letter, he should be somewhere in the southeastern corner of the gigantic desert by now. Link seemed so confident when he left the palace that he would be able to track Duncan down no matter where in Canor, or the world, the older man was.

Zelda wished she could feel some of that confidence when it came to searching for data intended to help Link on his quest.

In truth, she had no idea where to look next. She briefly considered consulting the Triforce, but doubted it would offer much help in this matter. It was hardly there for her to use to locate a single person, and she didn't know enough about the situation to wish on the Triforce. Without knowing it, she could wish and make the situation much, much worse.

No, that was definitely not an option.

The Sheikah library had been her best hope. And the only thing she had uncovered there was the disturbing news that Jarod had been Thanos' student. Just thinking that Jarod's influence had reached that far back was enough to give Zelda the shivers.

Zelda let herself sink a little deeper into the water, until the waterline brushed her lips, and breathed in the flowery oils giving the small room a relaxing fragrance.

She wished she had talked more to Link about Impa's vision before he left. Prophecy was nothing new to Zelda, far from it really, but her approach to it had always been to wait for it to begin to form and then deal with it. Link, however, believed in cutting prophecy off before it reached fruition. He had always attacked problems with the same narrowed focused approach of an arrow flying toward a target; she needed some of that drive now.

Again, she pulled her thoughts away from the Knight of the Triforce.

'What would Impa say?' she wondered ruefully. Impa...another question to add to the growing list of questions. Zelda had no idea why her old nanny was acting so strangely—no, she corrected, she did have an idea but it made no sense.

After King Harkinian died, Impa had encouraged the budding friendship between the princess and Knight. Even going so far as looking the other way when Link would sneak Zelda out of the palace without a guard detail. The Sheikah had seemed to feel that Link would become a confidant and help define Zelda sense of justice.

That was why Zelda was having a hard time understanding Impa's sudden distrust of the relationship between her and Link. True, she, Zelda, had grown closer to Link during the whole Si'Ra affair—returning to a state akin to when they were children before adulthood had pulled them in different directions. But that should not have concerned Impa.

The former nanny certainly never raised objection to any of Zelda's other, though short lived, friendships or liaisons. Only now, with a man she had always considered a trusted part of Hyrule's leadership, did Impa cast a disapproving glance. There were still too many things that Zelda did not know—too many secrets and lies abound for her to make assumptions.

Zelda was about to sink fully underneath the surface of the water and attempt again to relax, when she heard a voice from the main chamber of her living quarters. It was one of members of the rolling guard detail.

"Yes?" Zelda called, pushing her head up from the water.

"Many apologies for disturbing you, Highness," the guard said loudly so he wouldn't have to get any closer to her bathing chamber than necessary. "But the ambassador from Calatia is insisting to see you."

Zelda frowned with genuine curiosity. That was high on the unexpected list. "About what matter?" she asked.

"She refused to give details," the guard called. "All she said was it is concerning the matter you have shown great interest in lately."

Zelda jolted upright in the tub. Water sluiced from her bare shoulders. The room's temperature, warm before, now felt icy after her submersion in the hot bath. "Bring her here," she said. "I'll meet with her immediately."

Zelda stood without waiting for a reply and reached for the robe hanging from a hook on the wall.

* * *

Princess Zelda emerged several minutes later. She had wrapped a silk robe around her body, but it did little to keep the room's cool air from finding her. Her slippered feet were silent on the room's ornate rugs.

The room's lone occupant rose from the high-backed chair she'd been occupying when Zelda entered. Schuyler Britno was the recent appointee to the ambassadorship to Hyrule's neighbor to the west and south, Calatia. The two countries had shared a deep friendship that stretched even further back than Zelda's family claim on the throne.

Schuyler seemed too young and wide-eyed to be in command of such an ancient pact, however. She was shorter than Zelda by several handspans and her green eyes held a believing fire that the cutthroat atmosphere of the political arena often snuffed out quickly. Her skin was clear and absent what Link kindly referred to as 'bloody face paint,' but the points of her ears drooped just enough to be considered attractive. She was clad in the multi-layered skirts of muted reds that were the trademark of Calatia fashion and wore the white shawl of her office draped over her shoulders.

"Princess." Schuyler dropped to one knee and bowed her head. "Thank you for granting me an audience at such a late hour."

"Arise, Ambassador," Zelda said. "Sit with me, please, and tell me of this information you mentioned."

Schuyler came to her feet with the grace and speed of youth and followed Zelda to the high-backed chairs arranged for one-on-one meetings. Zelda took the chair across from where Schuyler had just left and gestured for her to sit. The leader of Hyrule crossed her legs, settled back, and put on the face of impartiality that had served her well in her political career. "Speak," she commanded.

"I don't know if this will help you or not, Highness," Schuyler began, her hands opening and closing in a nervous habit, "but I have some information about a magical theft and a spell that was attempted by a small group of Tower students."

Zelda cocked her head to the side. "How did you know of my search?" she asked.

"Your sudden interest in the Necromancer Thanos is hardly a secret," Schuyler said with a self-conscious smile. "One of your library caretakers contacted my office about information on necromancers that trained at the Tower of Magic in Calatia, and...here I am."

"I see. What does this theft have to do with Thanos?"

"The thieves stole a book belonging to Sorcerer Horate, the teacher of Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy," Schuyler said. "They tried to recreate a spell that Thanos himself pursued most of his life."

"Tried?" Zelda asked. "When did this happen?"

"Forty years ago," Schuyler answered.

"Oh." Zelda smiled slightly. "I guess it would be futile to offer any help your country might need in apprehending the thieves then."

Schuyler returned the smile. "I know of this because my father was part of the wizard squad sent out with the army to return the book."

"Oh," Zelda said again. "Forgive me for being unaware of your family's magical lineage. I'm surprised that you have completed your training already; you must have been quite advanced."

Schuyler's face reddened. "The opposite, really," she said. "The gift skipped me. My father had hoped I would follow in his footsteps, expected it really, but I took after my mother's side. The non-magical side."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Zelda said shaking her head. The ambassador's tone suggested she was confessing a deep family crime. "Not being able to conjure magic is hardly a handicap."

The woman's smile turned tight. "You haven't lived in my family," she said. "Anyway, my father, now a junior member of the Ruling Council, was part of the expedition sent to return the item of magic stolen by these thieves. For most of my life, he has been rebuilding the security implements of the Tower to keep another theft of this nature from ever happening again."

"Who were these thieves?" Zelda asked. "And what was the purpose of the spell they tried to cast?"

Schuyler shook her head. "The thieves were former students: three spell casters and one non-magical student. I don't know their names, only rough sketches of the event. The names are sealed in the archives of the Tower.

"As for the spell, there was still much debate in the Tower when I was a child about the destruction of Horate's memoirs. Many wizards questioned if such a spell could really work. The purpose of the incantation was to link the spell caster's life to the environment around him or her. To transcend one's own natural place in the ecosystem to a higher place, a more joined and controlling place."

"That doesn't exactly sound like a spell dealing with necromancy," Zelda said with a frown.

"Actually, it does," Schuyler said. "Necromancy by its own nature seeks to command the power that snuffs out life. The power that touches and controls us all. What could be a greater expression of that than the balance of life and death in the world's environment?"

Zelda thought for a moment. "You said this book was destroyed?"

"Yes," the ambassador said. "One of the thieves, when capture became obvious, burned the book. The wizards at the Tower grieved for a long time when they lost that valuable piece of knowledge," she added thoughtfully.

"The book was burned?" Zelda asked slowly. Impa's prediction about the Eye of Thanos ringing through her head: 'The only time it was not in his possession was when the wizards were grieving for their lost book.'

Schuyler nodded. "That's right."

Zelda drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Some of that needed drive was beginning to seep back into her bones. Confidence of the correct path was again building. "Send notice to your father," she said. "He is to expect me within three weeks." She stood, finalizing the meeting.

Schuyler scrambled to her feet, dipping in another bow before straightening. "Excuse me, Princess. He is to expect you?"

"Yes, Ambassador Britno," Zelda said. "I am going to pay a visit to the famed Tower of Magic. It is there I shall find the answers to my questions."


	16. Chapter Fourteen

****

Chapter Fourteen

The first rays of dawn were just starting to break the horizon of the eastern sky when Zelda summoned Impa to her private office. The office was not just a sanctum for private meetings and personal contemplation, but a reception chamber built to impress and intimidate. From the white marble floors, the wide desk, the lavish artwork, and rich decorations everything was carefully placed to remind visitors of the sheer power commanded by the Seat of Hyrule.

At times, Zelda reflected while sitting stone-faced behind her desk, the grandeur could even touch a sitting ruler. She watched from behind her mask of impartiality as the last Sheikah walked the length of the room.

Impa's stride was slow and careful, as though she was walking through hostile territory. Zelda hadn't allowed much time for her to arrive. She hadn't requested Impa presence; she had ordered it.

Impa came to a stop in front of the grand desk. "You wanted to see me, Zelda?" she asked. Her voice polite and laced with a hint of mockery.

Zelda leaned back in her tall chair and regarded the former nanny. She didn't want to do this, but had no choice. An army was no good to her if she could not trust its soldiers.

"I'm leaving today for the Tower of Magic," she said. "I expect to be away for several weeks."

Impa's eyes widened with surprise. "The Tower of Magic! Oh, for the love of the Light...Why? What business could you possibly have with such a den of—"

"I would like to have you with me," Zelda put in. "I know you cannot enter the Tower, but your insight into magic might prove useful to me."

The Sheikah was silent for a long moment as she digested the finality in the Zelda's voice. She drew herself to her full height and said, "Very well. I shall be ready to leave within the hour."

Now came the part Zelda had been dreading. "You are welcome to come with me," she said. "But before we leave, I want you to tell me what has been troubling you about Link."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." There was no passion in Zelda's voice, just tiredness. She had too many fronts in this battle already, too many unknowns, and did not want to engage another. She silently cursed Impa for letting this matter come so far. "You _will_ tell me, Impa. Either now or when I return, but this is a conversation we shall have."

Defiance flashed in Impa's brown eyes. "It is too soon for you to know anything about this matter."

"I'll be the judge of what I should and should not know," Zelda said, fighting the feeling of being a small child underneath her nanny's disapproving gaze. "This involves Link and I have a right to know."

"It involves prophecy," Impa corrected. "And no one should know too much about the future. I will not risk widespread harm by giving you another excuse to go gallivanting around with fruitless ideas of altering what has already been decided."

Zelda's mask slipped slightly with her anger. "What is the purpose of prophecy if not to fix a wrong before harm can result from it?"

"Exactly," Impa hissed. "That is what I'm doing!"

"I don't think you have any idea what you are doing," Zelda said coldly. "How far do you want this to go, Impa? Would you tell me if I ordered you to? If not, would you tell me if I threw you in a dungeon cell?

"How far, Impa? Tell me."

Impa squared her stance. "You cannot know because I fear what you would do with such knowledge," she said in a curt tone. "Lock me away if you so wish, but I will do whatever I must to escape and shadow you to the Tower of Magic—and you know I am more than capable of escaping. I cannot allow you to travel to such a dangerous place without a proper escort. The wizards at the Tower are hypocrites and are malicious beyond measure; you have no idea what you are getting yourself into."

Zelda sighed and looked away. "I have business to attend to this morning," she said looking back to the Sheikah. "Captain Irbe, General Tarmag, and I leave after the noon hour.

"Ready your horse and join us if you want."

Impa smiled. "Thank you."

Zelda didn't return the smile. "Don't thank me," she said. "Don't think that I am pacified by cryptic words and a boast of your prowess over my prisons. I will need your advice at the Tower and I simply don't have time to ride out your childish tantrums. You are dismissed."

Impa remained where she was even after Zelda had turned away. "I have never been so disappointed in you, Zelda," she said.

"Or I you, Impa. Leave, please."

Impa turned on her heel without another word and walked from the office with her slow deliberate stride unbroken.

Zelda made it to the count of seven before the papers in front of her vanished in a wet blur.

* * *

It was not the absence of her husband's warmth beside her that woke Maya Irbe, but rather the sounds of a large man trying very hard to not make noise.

Maya opened eyes still crusted with sleep and looked in the direction of the grunts and shuffling. Josia Irbe stood facing away from her as he quietly dressed. The cords of well-developed muscles flexed in his bare back and arms as he slipped a gray tunic over his strong frame.

It was still dark but would not be for much longer. Maya looked to the window that offered a small amount of starlight to shine in and saw the eastern sky just starting to brighten with the approaching dawn.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and still heavy with sleep but it was enough to halt the big solider. Those corded muscles tightened visibly with anxiety.

"A messenger just came," he replied in a similar tone. "The Princess is leaving in the afternoon for Calatia."

"And so are you?" Maya asked, already knowing the answer. There was nowhere else her brave husband would be in given the chance.

"General Tarmag has ordered me along," Irbe said. "He is sure I'll be appointed personal guard to the Princess soon."

Maya took this in silently. "And then you will be here to stay?" she said finally.

Josia turned to her with more emotion than a soldier should ever feel visible in his eyes. "Yes."

"Until she wishes to travel again?" Maya asked bitterly. If she couldn't be angry with Josia, she would turn that rage to the ruler of Hyrule. "Until an assassin's knife hits you instead of her?"

"I am who I am, Maya," Josia said helplessly. "I was a soldier when you married me."

Maya fought the urge to raise her voice. Not only because of the children sleeping beyond this room, but because she'd been an army wife long enough to know not to let him leave with hurtful words of discontent echoing in his mind. 'Never forget when he leaves, that might be the last time you ever see him again,' was the axiom all army wives quickly learned.

Three days after their wedding, Irbe had been ordered by the same captain of the guard that took him away now to begin missions in the Gerudo Valley. Maya had learned that truism then. She had been inconsolable, torn apart by the thought of her beloved never returning alive. Now she couldn't muster up the will to even care if he ever came back. He was gone so often, it wouldn't seem that unusual if he never came back.

Owning up the axiom that linked her to thousands of other women forced to endure the torture of absence, Maya put on the appropriate expression and beckoned Josia closer.

Irbe hesitated for a moment, then moved to and sat on the corner of the bed. The sheets still held the musky scent of their recent lovemaking. It was not a scent of happier times between them but of the desperate, flesh on flesh contact that part of their marriage had dissolved into. There was a clear difference between making love and sex, and Maya knew the dividing line all too well.

One of his large hands cupped her cheek. "I'll be back before long," he said. "Then we'll work on this."

'This' Maya thought with renewed bitterness. This illusion of a marriage, of home, of family was what he should have said. "Okay," was her standard reply. "Travel safe."

Josia Irbe nodded and leaned down to kiss his wife. For a moment the illusion grew stronger and almost appeared real, but then they parted and the real world was there with open arms.

He pushed to his feet and moved to leave the bedroom, tying the laces of his tunic as he did so.

Maya lay back and listened to the sounds of her husband leaving. She heard his heavy combat boots against the wood floor, the shuffle of fabric his cloak made as he threw it over his wide shoulders, and his almost inaudible sigh as he looked in on their children.

The east was brighter now. Soon it would be day and the children would wake. Maya Irbe's life would continue its unvarying and unexciting course.

* * *

Unbelievably, there were even more pomp and ceremonies the second time Zelda left the castle. Rows of armed knights saluted in perfect unison while trumpeters sounded their long instruments in a melody that was both grand and melancholy.

Riding to either side and slightly back of her were Glenn Tarmag, garbed in the armor and formal coat of arms of his office, and Josia Irbe, also bedecked in armor and the blazonry of his captaincy.

Their horses were different for this trip, Zelda noted. They were younger and better suited for quick travel over the harsh mountainous roads of northern Calatia and her surrounding trails. Glenn rode a solid looking gray speckled war-stallion, while she sat atop another white mare, and Irbe rode a massive brown bay that seemed to fit the captain's somber countenance well. For someone that reportedly spent much of his life away from Hyrule Castle Town, Zelda mused, Irbe didn't seem very happy to be on the road. Behind the two guards were Impa atop Shadow and two brown mares carrying the majority of the group's supplies.

The trip to the Tower of Magic would take three weeks of hard travel provided the weather held its late summer fairness. Zelda had chosen a direct path to the Tower rather than keeping with proper protocol and visiting Queen Seline first. Visiting Calatia Castle would take too much time away from finding information about the Eye of Thanos, and Zelda already felt pressured by the lead Duncan had on all of them. She had even considered using the magical gateway system that Impa and Duncan had used three years ago, but knew precious little about that dangerous magic and didn't want to end up lost or worse in whatever remained of the Dark World. Plus, Irbe would probably revolt at the thought of traveling great distances in the blink of an eye.

"I wish you would reconsider this," Impa said, as though reading her thoughts from a moment ago. "It just isn't right to enter another country without at least sending word of our arrival to the government."

Zelda shook her head. "I don't want to spend any more time in Calatia than I absolutely must. When I return I shall send the appropriate apologies through Ambassador Britno."

It took another half an hour of farewell ceremonies before Zelda and her group finally made it past the castle's outer gates. Once clear, they turned their horses to the west and north and spurred the animals into a fast gallop over the relatively even ground of Hyrule Field.

The quick pace was both to gain distance before nightfall and to limber the horses for the hard roads they would soon have to travel over. Though they were moving west, Zelda knew they would not be taking the same trails she and Link had used years earlier to elude the palace guard when Jarod had seized control of the country. Then she had entered Calatia at the southern most tip. Now she and her group would slowly angle northward, skirt the border for several days, and reach the Tower of Magic, which was located in the northern mountains not far from the dividing line between Calatia and the Wasteland of Canor.

With the distant Death Mountain at their flank, Zelda, Impa, Glenn, and Irbe rode steadily. They passed over small creaks still struggling to reach normal levels after the drought. Past trees that were starting to show shades of reds, yellows, and moody browns at the tips of their leaves. Deer, rabbits, and other small game regarded the thundering travelers with curiosity and slight fear.

The sky was blue with few clouds to block the warm sun, and in the distant west, where the horizon met dirt, several rocky outcroppings rose from the ground. Ahead of them lay Calatia.

* * *

Link's lessons during their escape to Calatia had been useful after all. With efficiency that surprised even herself, Zelda slid the tack from her white mare and piled it near the perimeter of their small campsite. Removing a small brush from one of the saddlebags, she began grooming the horse, whispering sugary prattle as she did so.

Horses were very particular, she knew. A well-trained mount would accept most people as riders, but if someone took care to talk to the horse and groom him or her, that mount would respond with better performance and be more willing to follow that rider into frightening situations.

Not that Zelda was expecting any frightening situations; sometimes it was just nice to talk to horses.

Twilight had set in and dark was quickly approaching. After deciding to stop for the night, Glenn had, with Zelda's nod of agreement, taken charge and sent the group about with needed chores. Irbe was given the task of scouting and securing the surrounding area; Impa was ordered to get supplies and bedrolls needed for the evening unpacked and setup; Zelda had volunteered to take care of the horses; while the general readied a fire in the center of the camp.

Zelda jerked her hand back as pain flashed in it, and looked at her index finger. A tiny drop of blood welled up from a vertical cut on the fingertip. A tiny beetle scurried out from her mare's mane, clicking its mandibles in anger of having its home disturbed by the grooming. "Figs," Zelda said, sucking the blood away. She knocked the bug to the ground with the brush's handle.

A small chuckle came from behind her.

Zelda turned and saw Irbe laughing lightly. "Something wrong?" she asked.

His smile vanished in a blink and he quickly dipped his head in a bow. "Forgive me, Princess. I meant no disrespect."

Zelda softened her expression. "You have a problem with figs, Irbe?"

"No, Highness. I just had never heard a noblewoman use that word before."

She sucked another droplet of blood from her finger. "What did I tell you about formality? You don't have to use my title every time you speak with me."

"As you wish." Though he didn't say it, she could see the honorific struggling to emerge from his throat.

Zelda smiled and regarded the young captain. Link wasn't the only one who could have fun with the help. "In fact, when not in a formal setting, I would not object to my given name being used. You wouldn't be the first on the staff to use my name."

Irbe's eyes widened. "I don't think I would be comfortable with that, Princess." He glanced over his shoulder to Tarmag. The general was too far away to hear their conversation, however.

"Glenn won't offer you any help," Zelda said. "Do you have a problem with the chain of command, Josia? Can you not talk with me without your commanding officer in attendance?"

The captain was visibly uncomfortable now. "No, ma'am—I mean yes, ma'am."

"Then why not use my name?"

"I really wouldn't feel comfortable, ma'am."

"I order you to use my na—"

"Zelda." The name spilled out of his mouth before his eyes even registered hearing the command.

Zelda's smile grew. "Well, let your loyalty never be questioned, Josia." She paused and gave him time to compose himself. "How about when we are not in a formal setting, we agree to drop the titles after every other sentence? And you don't have to use my given name if it makes you uncomfortable; a simple 'hey you' would suffice."

He glanced over his shoulder at Glenn still working on the fire. "I'm afraid that our ideas of a formal setting differs."

"I don't understand."

"General Tarmag and the Sheikah might be your friends, but they are my commanding officers. I would not feel comfortable referring to you in such a manner around them."

"We are going to be on the road for some time," Zelda said. "As we travel together, I'm sure the barriers of command will lessen for you."

He bowed again. "Perhaps. If I may be dismissed, Princess, I must scout the area."

"Of course. Go walk your patrol." Zelda watched him eagerly depart and then turned back to her mare. "Where does Glenn find people like that?" she asked.

The white horse puffed her lips out in reply.

Zelda stroked the mare's nose. "You have a name, sweetie? I think I'll call you Masie. Do you like that name?"

Masie sniffed the brush in Zelda's hand and inched forward, impatient for her to continue the grooming.

Zelda smiled and complied.

* * *

Within an hour of stopping, they had a steady fire and a meal of dried smoked meat and tea waiting. Irbe had yet to return, but Zelda was not worried about the overstrung captain. With the armaments he carried at all times, she worried more for the wildlife around him.

"Have ya given any more thought to my recommendation about Captain Irbe, Princess?" Glenn asked as they sat around the fire, waiting for the tea to warm.

"I told you I don't need a personal guard, Glenn," Zelda said, holding her hands over the flames.

The general sighed. "What if I chose somebody other than Josia?" he asked.

Zelda shot an annoyed glance at her adviser. "The answer is the same no matter whom you select," she said. "There is no need for such a position."

"Would ya talk some sense into her, Impa?"

The Sheikah didn't look away from stirring the tea. "I've been trying to do that for years," she said lightly.

Zelda didn't respond to the light tone and continued to stare into the fire.

Irbe returned then. He beckoned to Glenn from the edge of the fire's light. The two officers stood apart from the rest of the camp for several minutes talking in hush tones.

"What do you suppose that is about?" Zelda asked.

Impa gave a small shrug. "I don't know," she said.

Zelda glanced at her former nanny and let the subject drop. She had a feeling the three weeks of travel were going to be quite long.

Glenn returned to the fire and Irbe vanished back into the darkness.

"What's going on?" Zelda asked.

"Trouble," Glenn said, settling down across from her. "Josia found some tracks not far from here."

"What sort of tracks?" Impa asked, her voice low and conspiratorial even as she went about pouring tea into cups.

"Could be bandits," Glenn said. "Me and Josia are goin' to lay a circle around the camp tonight to be sure o' yer safety, Princess."

Zelda shook her head. "You don't have to do that, General. Link and I never encountered any bandits when we traveled to Calatia three years ago. Those tracks, even if they are from thieves, are probably days old."

The captain of the guard nodded. "I hope yer right, Princess, but it's better if two watches are held tonight."

Impa handed him a cup of tea and said, "I'll be happy to sit watch in the camp tonight so you and Irbe can widen your search perimeter."

"Thank ya, Impa."

"This is ridiculous," Zelda said looking at the two of them. "We have a heavy ride tomorrow and you three are going to be awake the whole night? At least, if you insist upon doing this, let me act as relief for one of the watches."

Glenn shook his head. "Sorry, Princess, but we are trained for this kind o' thing. Ya gave us the assignment to get ya to Calatia safely, and that's just what we're doin'. We'll worry about security, ya worry about whatever ya gotta do at the Tower."

Impa nodded her agreement of that.

"I was trained in the ways of the Sheikah," Zelda said, "and Link had me keep watch many times."

"I ain't Link," Glenn said. "Maybe the Knight o' the Triforce had good reasons for letting ya stand watch, but I got good reasons for ya not to. I've been protectin' royalty since before ya were born and I know how to snap a circle around this camp."

"Plus," Impa added, "you never completed your training, Zelda. You learned just enough to defend yourself and do what was necessary to win. Even Link would yield to superior training."

Zelda pressed her lips together tightly. She could order them to let her stand watch, but wouldn't. They did have a point. "Fine, but we leave early and stop for rest before dusk sets in. My guards will be no good to me if they are all too tired to stand."

"Understood, Princess."

"Yes, Zelda."

* * *

That night, wrapped tightly in a bedroll located near the fire, Zelda should have felt completely relaxed and protected but didn't. Too much was unknown for Zelda to feel anything akin to comfortable. Things appeared simple when the only choices were action or inaction. Now she had time to think about the consequences of her choices, and time to second guess them.

'Am _I_ on a fool's errand?' she wondered, listening to the logs in the fire pop. Was this really the best course of action to be taking? Leaving Hyrule when there was a forbidding prophecy to decipher? What if Impa was right and she was too close to this whole affair? She had never doubted the Sheikah's opinion before, and now she had sided with Link over Impa.

Zelda wanted desperately to talk to someone about this, but knew there was no one who would give her an impartial view. Impa had always been the ideal impartial listener, but, in this, she'd already made her thoughts clear. Glenn was a good adviser on many types of issues, but he thought that wizards and prophets should handle prophecy and magic. Irbe...well, he might be an option if he ever removed the stick from his hindquarters.

Her thoughts turned to the letter sitting in her satchel. Link's letter detailing his journey through the tunnels underneath Death Mountain. He would certainly be impartial—he was in every other matter—but she had no parchment or carrier bird handy even if she knew where to send a letter.

There was another way, however, for her to contact him without having to wait for a postal courier to fly the distance between them...

She had done it before and was confident she could do it again. Zelda bit her bottom lip and glanced about the camp. Glenn and Irbe were out in Hyrule Field and Impa was sitting quietly at the edge of the firelight.

The princess' heart pounded with the idea of casting another dream spell. The first time she'd used such a potent spell was when she was still just a child under Impa tutelage. Both she and Link were in great need and she managed to reach out with a spell that was, at the time, far beyond her training.

The warm glow of magic in Zelda's chest began to increase. Her mind started focusing on the same magical forms she used so many years ago. The spell was complex, but she was confident it would reach Link no matter where in the world he was. It would be just like when they were little...

No, she realized with sobering intensity, it would be different. They were different. Dream spells were highly illegal when cast on an unaware person, and even when both parties consented, exceptions were rarely made.

Link was a grown man now. He was only twelve and she fourteen when they first shared a dream spell. He might not appreciate such an intrusion into his mind just so she could have someone to talk to.

The warmth of magic in her chest faded. Realization of what she had almost done made her head swim. Was she really that far from reason? "What is happening to me?" Zelda muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her bedroll and turning her back to the warm firelight.

Impa, sitting several paces away, gave no sign that she had heard the question.


	17. Interlude Two

****

Interlude Two

__

Forty years before...

By all accounts, he should be dead. Duncan Azar had no idea why he was still alive. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes. Fires still burned in the assembly of the monastery and filled the destroyed hall with flickering light. The smells of burning wood, pulverized mortar, and cooked meat hung heavy in the air.

"You're awake," a voice said behind him. "I was worried you'd never wake."

Duncan turned his head, wincing as his upper vertebra popped, and saw Vinart crouching next to him. Dried blood crusted the front of the young wizard's robe and a dusting of mortar had turned his brown curly hair almost completely white.

"What?" Duncan tried to say but only managed a weak mumble.

"You were hurt," Vinart said. "Hurt badly. I had to heal you with magic."

Duncan gave a numb nod. Vinart, the most empathic of the group he put together to rob the necromancers' enclave and complete Thanos' work, was always quite skilled at healing. Looking at the young wizard now, however, Duncan wondered just how badly the cave in had injured him. Vinart looked completely exhausted.

"Givoi?" Duncan was able to croak out.

"There wasn't enough left to heal," Vinart said. He reached out and rested a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Duncan. I know how much he meant to you."

Duncan hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut as large, hot tears threatened to escape. How had it come to this?

"I have no magic to ease your pain," Vinart said. "Not this sort of pain anyway. But we need you now. Calso is ready for the final incantation, and we need a third body to help channel the spell."

They needed him to play Givoi's part—that was what Vinart was saying. It took all that Duncan had to not be sick right there. "Are you serious?" he asked. His voice was still rough from all the dust he had inhaled, but the words came out well enough. "It's over, Vinart. All of it is over. The spell, our plans, everything."

"No," Vinart said passionately. "We can't let it end like this! Givoi wouldn't have wanted us to give up now—he died to give us a chance to finish what you started."

Duncan stared at his companion for more than a year. Had he the strength, he would have beaten Vinart for throwing Givoi's death at him like that. He hardened his gaze. "Fine. We'll go, but Givoi died because he believed himself stronger than those four wizards back there. It wasn't nobility that killed him; it was arrogance."

"He did always think he was better than every—"

"Shut up," Duncan said coldly. "You don't speak that way of him. Understand?"

The prospect of rejoining Calso and finishing the spell shone in Vinart's eyes. "Whatever you want, Duncan."

"Help me up." Vinart used a spell to move the scree piled around Duncan and then helped him to his feet. As he straightened, every joint in Duncan's body popped. He cried out as his muscles cramped and he wondered again just how injured he was before Vinart healed him.

With Vinart lending a shoulder for Duncan to lean against, the two former Tower students walked down the destroyed corridor. "What about the others?" Duncan asked.

"What others?"

"The representatives from the Tower," Duncan said. "Did you find them in the rubble of the assembly?"

Vinart was silent for a long moment. "No," he finally said. "They were gone when I arrived. I don't know where they are now."

"Then they'll be back."

The ruined halls of the monastery suddenly seemed narrower and darker. A cold feeling worked its way up Duncan's spine. He could feel the hunters coming for him. Even together the thieves didn't have enough power to stop those that pursued them. Acceptance settled itself in the pit of his stomach. Just as he'd known, this was going to be the day of his death.

The destruction of the front assembly had brought down other parts of the monastery as well. Entire corridors had collapsed, forever sealing areas of the holy building off. Duncan and Vinart doubled back several times just to find a clear path to the dining area.

Destruction was everywhere. Sunlight streamed in from holes in the old walls, catching dancing motes of pulverized mortar as they settled on the rubble that littered the floor. The odor of fire, death, and magic filled the complex. Duncan almost gagged on the smells they were so powerful.

The absence of sound was worst of all. Somehow the corridors would not seem so forbidding, the feeling of being hunted by invisible wizards would not be as strong, and the weight of Givoi's death wouldn't be so pressing if only Duncan could hear the familiar sound of a floorboard creaking or an old door squeaking. Even those doors on rusty hinges and floorboards had gone silent though. Duncan felt as though he was in a dream, but knew all too well how real this had become. The theft in the enclave was the dream and he had awakened to this.

Duncan touched the wooden doorframe of the dining area's entranceway as he passed, and was surprised to feel a sizable chunk of the wood break off in his hand. He stopped and stared at the broken beam like it was the most alien thing he'd ever seen in his life.

Vinart pulled at his arm. "Come on, Duncan! We don't have much time. This is what you always wanted—don't falter now!"

Duncan nodded, dropped the wood, and followed his cohort. This was not what he wanted though—far from it. He never wanted people to get hurt or die. The Tower wasn't supposed to notice or even care about the loss of one old book. Givoi was supposed to have helped Calso finish the spell, and then he and the rest would continue their education until they were the most powerful spell casters the world had ever seen.

"None of this was meant to be," Duncan muttered again, following Vinart into the dining chamber.

It seemed oddly comical that the dining area was completely untouched by the destructive magic that had swept through the rest of the monastery. It was all as Duncan had left it...hours ago? Minutes? He no longer had any sense of time. How long had that wizard duel taken anyway?

He made a mental note to ask Vinart later, and promptly gave a silent laugh at his own foolishness. No one was getting out of this monastery alive today.

"Good," Calso hissed from behind the makeshift altar, "you brought him." The room was unchanged but not Calso, Duncan noted with more than a little shock. The gentle, petite woman he had met in that other lifetime while he was a student at the Tower of Magic was not the same woman that now stood before him. The woman in her place was wild-eyed, her stringy hair in crazy disarray, and gripped the altar with a white-knuckled grasp. Her face was contorted in an ugly sneer that was born of either intense pain or deep sexual ecstasy—with the nature of the magic she was dealing with, Duncan realized, maybe it was a mixture of both.

"Come here and we shall complete the spell."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Duncan followed Vinart across the dining area and took up position behind the makeshift altar. He tried very hard to not look at the remains of their sacrifice. The magically lit flames continued to dance seemingly without any fuel source in the half moon pit dug in the floor.

The book on the altar, Sorcerer Horate's life work, was open to the same page Calso had been reading from when Duncan and Givoi left. As Vinart approached, however, the pages quickly turned by themselves to a chapter deeper in the book. Words artfully written in Old Hylian were backlit in green.

"That is your part, Vinart," Calso said pointing. "Read it and step aside for Duncan." She turned to the young dark skinned man. "The book will turn to your part as well, Duncan."

Duncan forced himself to meet her gaze. Magic, dark and powerful, danced in her blue irises. Her breathing was short and fast as though she was in the grips of something he could never hope to understand. "I have no gift for spell casting," he said, surprised by the firmness in his own voice. "I cannot channel magic."

"That will not matter." Calso looked annoyed at his lack of knowledge. "My magic is the only power here now. Not even Givoi could have conceived of the sorcery I now hold."

"Sorcery?" Duncan shook his head. "You're a conjurer, Calso; not a necromancer. You can't command sorcery."

Calso just smiled in answer.

"Halt!" a commanding voice rang out. From the point where shadows touched light, Necromancer Ossie stepped into the chamber. Following only seconds behind were the rest of his wizard squad, all looking bruised and battered but otherwise unharmed. Duncan idly wondered of the four, which was the most gifted healer. Surely heal spells were needed after that massive cave in.

Ossie walked across the dining area with the full confidence and authority one of his position commanded. "You will halt this casting immediately and turn yourselves over to the Tower of Magic for judgement."

Calso gave a throaty laugh. "I see the arrogance of the necromancers' enclave hasn't changed in the time I've been gone."

Ossie came to a stop several paces away from the fire pit's edge. He stood with his stance squared to his shoulders, hands at his sides and fingers spread, and sizable cords of magic twisting around his form. "You will halt now," he repeated. His voice holding an unnatural echo.

Duncan felt Vinart's hand on his arm as the enchantment swept over them. The compulsion to do as the master wizard commanded was nearly overwhelming.

Calso regarded Ossie as a parent might look upon a small child. "Your mind tricks can no longer touch me, Sorcerer Ossie." She used the appellation and name as one might use a curse word. "Behold!" Calso cast out her hands and a shield, far larger and showing much more texture than any of the others in the assembly had, began dividing the room.

Ossie backpedaled to avoid the shield's edge as it completed its journey around the fire pit, effectively sealing the three thieves off from the four wizards. He shouted out a spell in Old Hylian that Duncan recognized as a powerful dispel, but the shield didn't even waver.

Calso spun on her heel and that wild-eyed gaze found her accomplices again. "Finish the spell," she commanded. Though Duncan didn't hear the telltale echo, he did feel the weight of the enchantment she laced through her words.

Vinart began reading without hesitation. As he read each word aloud, the glow behind it vanished leaving untouched black ink. The young wizard's voice grew thick and hoarse as his tongue tried to produce words that had remained unspoken in at least two thousand years.

The complexities of Old Hylian were at times a pleasure to listen to, but not these words. Vinart's words were vile and dripped with black magic. Horate had discovered this spell as a researcher; Thanos had stolen it to meet the aspirations his level of skill prevented him from obtaining naturally; and Duncan had embezzled from the both of them to fulfill his own ideas of how magic should be used.

The conjurer standing behind and to the left of Ossie covered his ears with his hands and refused to even listen to the words the former Tower student spoke. One of the apprentices moved to follow suit, but the other apprentice, the one with wispy hair that had shot Duncan, listened with rapt attention.

Ossie threw his head back and screamed. Duncan winced as a storm of raw magic slammed into him from that scream; Vinart lost his place and had to return to the beginning of his third verse; Calso didn't even flinch. The scream ended with an echo and the necromancer stepped forward, thrusting a hand at Calso. "Who are you to defile the sanctity of the Tower's opinion?!"

Duncan had never seen a wizard as angry as Ossie now appeared. Gone was the calm confidence from the assembly. He wondered why the wizards didn't just pull Calso's shield down. Givoi hadn't been strong enough to hold a shield against the combined might of the four spell casters for this long, and Calso wasn't nearly as strong as Givoi had been.

But she had to be, Duncan realized with cold pin prickles working their way down his arms. The wizards _were_ trying to touch her shield—now that he was looking for them, he could see faint tendrils of magic through the shield pulling at it—but could not match her strength. Sweet Light, what had he created?

As though she could read his mind, Calso turned slightly and smiled at Duncan. Turning back to Ossie, she said, "I am the light and the dark. I am the water and the fire. I kill some of my children so that others might live." She spread her arms and slowly levitated several feet into the air. "I am as powerful as the wind, the water, and the sand. I am Canor.

"I am Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy!"

Ossie's tan skin blanched almost completely white. "No, it's not possible," he said, drawing back a step. "We felt you die! You were killed by Fegobvesjarod, your own apprentice."

Shadows detached themselves from the corners of the room and came together behind Calso. They grew upward and slowly took on the appearance of a robe-clad man. The shadows deepened and so did the details of the man's body and face. His jaw was square and strong with a very thin and well-trimmed beard lining it. A hook shaped knife hung from the sash of his robe, similar to the one on Ossie's belt—the trademark tool of a necromancer.

Thanos towered above Calso and rested his large, callused hands on her narrow shoulders. "There are many kinds of death, brother," he said. The shadow's lips moved but Calso's voice was the only one audible. "It is all a matter of mastering what the powers of fate hand out."

Some of Ossie's fear vanished underneath his years of training. "You never mastered anything, Thanos." He held out his hands. "Be gone, demon! By the power of the Underworld, I cast thee from this girl. Return to your place at the Keeper's feet!"

Duncan looked wide-eyed to Thanos, almost expecting the exorcism to work. Thanos threw his head back and Calso laughed for him. Duncan wondered if there was anything left of the innocent girl he had known in that shell of her form. Beside him, Vinart was still reading and the glowing words left on the page were becoming fewer and fewer.

"I am not a ghost to be thrown out with a simple spell," Thanos said. "I am more than you wizards could ever be!"

Duncan saw Ossie glance at the conjurer as he slowly circled around the rear of the chamber. The necromancer took another step closer to the shield's edge. "Sorcerer Horate believed that all wizards could cast the spell you stole," he said. "As you did at one time, I recall."

"History has misjudged my intentions in front of the Ruling Council," Thanos/Calso said with a scoff. Both seemed unaware of the conjurer sneaking around them at the perimeter of the room. "The power is only for a select few."

Ossie indicated Duncan and Vinart. "Aren't those two and young Calso proof of Horate's way of thinking? Are they not on the threshold of finishing the same spell you cast so long ago and joining with the land of Calatia?"

"They could never duplicate my impressive feat," Thanos declared. "I lured each of them here with their own desires for greatness solely for my own purpose." Vinart didn't even acknowledge those words so lost in the spell was he, but Duncan did. Those cold prickles on his arms became even colder. What had he done? What was Thanos, the man he had idealized for so long, going to do with his friends?

Ossie gave another glance to the conjurer who was almost in place to pass through the weak point where the shield touched the wall. "What is their purpose then?" he asked. "Am I smart enough to understand it?"

Thanos cocked his head to the side—Calso miming his moves perfectly—and said, "You are not nearly as smart as you think you are, Ossie. I have beaten far greater than you."

"And were defeated by a mere student," Ossie countered.

"Don't be so sure." Thanos smiled. "I told you the histories are wrong. There are magical forces in the world the Tower doesn't know about. You have written old horrors off as myths, but a day shall come when those myths rise up and attempt to seize the world again. Are you sure my solution isn't the right one to combat the Black Souls? Why do you think this spell was written in the first place?"

The shade of the long dead necromancer paused then. He looked oddly passive for a moment, then he and Calso spun with dizzying speed and thrust their arms out. Two yellow bolts flew from Calso's hands but not from Thanos'. The conjurer had just enough time to see the incoming magic and raise his hands in a weak defense.

The double blast of magic hit the conjurer and lifted him from his feet. Magic flashed and for a moment looking at him was like looking into the sun. When the light cleared a charred corpse wearing a robe of ash was all that was left of him.

"Baron!" Ossie yelled. "No!"

"No," Duncan echoed, stepping away from the altar. "There wasn't supposed to be killing! I never wanted people to be hurt because of this."

Thanos and Calso turned to him. "Never take an action if you are not prepared to pay the price for it," they said. "That is my first lesson to you, my young apprentice."

Duncan shivered and glanced at Vinart. He finished reading his part and stepped back. Sweat glistened on his skin and his breathing was short and quick. Whatever the spell had demanded of him, it had taken nearly all he had.

Thanos glanced back to Ossie. "And now my master's failure is complete. Calatia and Hyrule are mine. For too long the sands of Canor have held me confined, unable to breathe or move. Now the known world shall be mine."

Ossie smiled faintly. "I know what you did," he said. "I know how you survived Fegobvesjarod. There isn't enough of your spirit left to touch the known world. Your power was so marginal while you lived, I'm surprised Canor even responds to you."

"I am alive!"

Ossie shook his head. "You are a shade of the past locked in an forgotten relic. I guess the Eye of Thanos must be real after all." For the first time since entering the assembly, the master necromancer looked tired. Behind him the two apprentices moved closer together as though for protection. If Ossie couldn't best Thanos, they had no chance of doing so.

Thanos/Calso's eyes flashed with outrage. "I shall turn you into a dog to beg at my feet!"

Ossie ignored him. "You know what you must do, Duncan," he said. "I cannot do it from here, but you can."

"I don't know!" Duncan felt a fresh layer of sweat bead on his brow. "Tell me."

But Ossie, a wizard trained by the Tower to respect all forms of knowledge and history, could not tell him. Duncan met the necromancer's gaze and saw sadness there.

Thanos turned. "Read your part, Duncan. Complete the spell and you shall have all the fame and power you dreamed of."

Duncan heard an echo in those words and felt the compulsion to read the book. He knew a new set of words now glowed for him, but could not look away from Ossie's eyes. He swallowed hard and understood what the necromancer could not do. Wasn't there an old adage about wrong and wrong not equaling right? How could a spell caster of the Tower expect him to do such a thing?

"Do it, Duncan!" The enchantment in Calso's voice was stronger now.

Duncan couldn't dispel such magic and turned to the book. Against his will, he looked down at the writing and began to read aloud. He spoke the names of underworld gods that Hylian tongues never touched until the creation of this spell. He spoke words that had no meaning to him, but conjured ghastly images to his mind. He saw blood and death on scales that were beyond belief. For a moment, Duncan's mind touched the underworld and he knew its keeper.

"No," Duncan forced out around utterances of Old Hylian. "I will not be a part of this any longer!" He wrapped his hands around the massive book on the altar and steeled himself for what he was about to do.

"Duncan!" Thanos called. "Face the consequences of your actions."

"Oh, he will, brother." Ossie gave him the same smile Givoi had received at the moment of his death. "He will."

Duncan screamed and lifted the book from the altar and threw it into the fire pit. The fire died for a moment, then ignited again with a purple cast. Thunder without sound slammed into the dining chamber and all save for Ossie and Thanos dropped to the ground in pain. Cries of the underworld emerged from the flames. Magic, precious to those pages alone, began to die.

Vinart and Calso together shrieked and began thrashing about. Duncan watched wide-eyed as their skin quickly turned red and began blistering. They screamed in agony as the fat underneath their skin began to sizzle. The smell of burning meat filled the air and Duncan felt his last meal rise in his throat.

Thanos mouthed the word "no" and held his hand out to the quickly burning book. His face contorted intensely as he tried to use magic to draw the book to safety, but could not pierce whatever reality he had imprisoned himself in. The memoirs of Sorcerer Horate continued to burn.

The shield in front of Ossie shattered like glass and the necromancer was beside the altar in a blink. Without hesitation, he held the palm of his hand over Calso's heart and said, "_Chwim addoed_." He was a blur of magically enhanced speed as he moved past Duncan and did the same for Vinart.

And, for the first and last time in his life, Duncan felt the wizard and witch die as only a spell caster could. He saw their life forces flare and then experienced a wave of peace from both of them. Wherever in the underworld they passed to, they felt no pain there.

Ossie drew himself up tall. "Go tell Captain Roban he is to withdraw the perimeter setup around the monastery," he said to the apprentices. "He is to also send a carrier bird to the Tower and tell them I have succeed...though not in the way I had hoped, and at much greater cost than any of us wanted."

The two apprentices bowed and quickly fled from the chamber.

Ossie turned to the shade of Thanos, who was quickly losing his form. "You were the one thing I had not expected," he said. "I wish you well in whatever hell you have crafted for yourself. Perhaps one day a better soul than I shall free you to experience the death you are due. Until then, be gone!" He waved his hands and a gale blew the shadows holding Thanos' form together back to the corners of the room.

And then it was just Duncan and Ossie left.

The master necromancer considered the former Tower student for a long moment before speaking. "It is a shame you don't have the gift," Ossie said at last. "You would have made a fine necromancer. I would have been proud to have taught you personally."

Duncan barked a laugh and tried to climb to his feet. He promptly fell onto his side, however, when his limbs couldn't manage the strength to support him. He could still hear the screams of his friends as they burned.

"I think I shall call you _bradwr_," Ossie said. "Do you know what that means?"

"Old Hylian for traitor," Duncan answered. "A fitting name, master."

"Indeed for you are the traitor of a traitor. History might remember you for what you just did."

"Not if I can help it." Duncan glanced to the fire that was now beginning to fade away. Only ash remained of the memoirs. "Eight hundred years of knowledge and work by one of the greatest spell casters to have ever lived..."

Ossie nodded and followed Duncan's gaze. "Knowledge without wisdom, though. Horate never mastered that particular art. Some histories are best left lost."

That didn't make Duncan feel any better about the crime against the world he had just committed. "What will happen to me now?"

"You will be taken back to the Tower of Magic for judgment," Ossie said. "I am sorry, Duncan, but you have many enemies there from this theft—enemies that will not look upon the book's destruction as the necessity I do—and they are not likely to show mercy."

Duncan gazed at Ossie with the eyes of an old, beaten man. "So what else is new?"


	18. Chapter Fifteen

****

Chapter Fifteen

__

Now...

Verr dipped the brown rag in the bowl of water, withdrew it, and squeezed the excess liquid from the cloth. The steady drip, drip of the water falling back to the bowl was the only sound in the one-room home. She rested easily on her heels before the deathbed of the only leader she'd ever known.

She knew it was blasphemous to think such things, to compare Pav to the Si'Ra gods, but it was true. Pav was a father to her generation of Si'Frant, a leader that had been allowed to glimpse a god. He had proved his bravery to his students when Vox, Jarod's nonpareil, had tried to take over all training in the dogi.

Pav hadn't agreed with Vox's monomaniacal teaching style, and had insisted his students receive his tutelage as well. He had risked the ultimate punishment at the hands of the Si'Ra, but would not back away from his convictions. For that perseverance, he had proved himself to Jarod and all Si'Frant—all except Vox's students that is.

And now he was dying.

It was not travel sickness that caused him to fall before, but the same ailment that would strike down every Si'Frant. Without the Bond to the Si'Ra, they would all suffer the same fate.

Verr deftly folded the now wet rag and placed it on Pav's warm brow. The other Si'Frant hadn't lived this long, she knew. It was a credit to their leader's ability to fight.

It was a shame no one would live to weave new history tapestries, she reflected, for Pav's battle against the force of death would surely earn him a substantial place.

"Your eyes are clouded with despair, young one," Pav said weakly.

Verr tried to force her expression to soften but failed. "I was thinking about the future," she said.

"You worry about the Si'Frant?" Pav guessed.

She nodded minutely. "Yes."

Pav closed his eyes and sighed. "You still have not learned," he said.

Verr's eyes went wide. "What? Is it wrong to care about our way of life?" she demanded. "Without you, your leadership, the Si'Frant are surely doomed."

Pav tried to sit up but only managed to raise his head slightly. "Listen to me, Verr, and listen well because my lessons are coming to an end. The Si'Frant doomed themselves five thousand years ago when the first followers of the Si'Ra dropped to their knees and swore their lives to the wizards."

Verr glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one outside had heard such words of blasphemy. No one was there; she was the only one left that seemed to care about Pav's condition. Her gaze came back to her ill mentor. "Are you saying that you no longer believe the Si'Ra to be gods?" she asked, eager and afraid to learn the answer.

"Even the convincing words of the last Knight of the Triforce cannot change an old man's heart," Pav said quietly, almost sadly. "But his words and my long years of life teach me this: a true god that created life would not then snuff it out with the same efficiency the Si'Ra did. A god of freedom would not bend the will of the world to his holy word. Freedom is not about choosing right, but simply _choosing_. Think of the joy in that, Verr."

Verr shook her head. "No. No, you're wrong. A parent rules a child to keep the child from hurting itself. That is what I was taught the Si'Ra did for us. That is what _you_ taught me!"

Pav shrugged his bony shoulders. "I chose wrong, young one. For that, I'm sorry." He settled back into his bed sheets, obviously weakened by their exchange. "But think of this: a parent also realizes that a child will never respect fire until he or she has felt the touch of flame. A poor decision once can often save much pain in the future..."

As her teacher slept, Verr sat back and absently rubbed the tender skin between her thumb and forefinger. She thought about a time when she was little and had burned her hand in a fire. The candles in the dogi had intrigued her and she reached into the flames to see what something so pretty felt like. Pav had been in the dogi with her and never lifted a finger to stop her.

* * *

Later, when she was sure Pav would sleep for a while longer, Verr left the shack the elder Si'Frant had selected to spend his endtime in. She moved down the ancient cobblestone street with the intention of finding food for herself and Pav.

About her the never resting sounds of a working campsite echoed. The squeal of metal against grinding stones as halberds and knifes were sharpened; the pop of wood in bonfires; the shuffle of many soft boots across the cobblestone and dirt roads; and the clamor of men and women talking and laughing. A thin blue smoke wafted up and down the streets of Othin and the smells of sandrays, cooked bugs, and other native game filled the air.

Othin was the last city in what the Calatians and Hylians called 'the known world.' When Calatia began its push into Canor three thousand years ago, Othin was one of the cities that prospered from the addition of new trade routes and services. Generations ago, this was a grand city that carried the promise of tantalizing riches and the thrill of living at the edge of the known world.

People seeking adventure and any of the many fantasies of what lay beyond the mapped portions of Canor would stop in Othin. Taverns and inns were always full of laughter and songs sung in many different languages. It was a golden age that died quickly with the devastation that swept through Canor at the time of Emperor Le'Ven'Giloy's death.

Now those taverns and inns were long abandoned. The forces of nature, both the remains of the old and the new order the devastation had brought, had gained a strong foothold in Othin during those many years of neglect. Weeds now grew everywhere, thick spider webs covered walls that used to be painted with dazzling murals, and leathery Canor birds roosted on top of many of the buildings. Occasionally a fight between two birds would break out when one flew too close to the territory of another and a brief shower of black blood would fall to the cobblestones.

Verr kept her head low as she walked the streets of Othin. Members of the Si'Frant passed her without acknowledgement. Though no one would speak of it openly, Pav had survived much longer than anticipated and it was Verr that insisted they stay until the end. Without her, they would have abandoned him a long time ago.

She was committed to her path, but felt the precious time slipping away with each day. They were still very far away from the palace of Thanos, and their course to avoid the Vless would rob them of even more time. She shivered at the thought of the Vless. Five hundred years had passed since Si'Frant and Vless had last met, and no one wanted an encore of that disastrous happening.

A hand on her arm surprised Verr and brought her out of her reverie. She shook the hand off and spun to face the one that had touched her.

"Easy," Gil said, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "You're a touch jumpy."

Verr smiled at her older clanmate. "I thought you were...someone else."

"Yin?"

Verr nodded. "I doubt he approves of our stay in Othin."

"No, he doesn't." Gil looked at the Si'Frant sharing the street with them, some were watching the meeting very closely. He put his hand on her back and led her forward. "Walk with me, Verr."

Verr spared a glance over her shoulder and fell into step with her brother. "Are you no longer in Yin's inner circle?" she asked.

"I was never in his inner circle." Gil looked hurt by the thought. "I would never betray Pav. There are politics to consider, _unta_. The Si'Frant are stronger together than apart, and we need a goal to work toward."

"Even if that goal can never be reached?"

"Yes," Gil said quietly. "If we had stayed in the Chamber of Tears, divisions would have formed and fractured the Si'Frant. This way, we are together."

"For better or worse," Verr said dryly.

"Exactly."

For a long while the only sound between them was the shuffle of their soft boots on the cracked stone street. Wyth, Canor's blue lichen, grew in abundance this deep in the city. It covered the walls, consumed entire homes, and grew in the split cobblestones.

"How is Pav?" Gil asked at last.

"He is worse by the day," Verr answered honestly. "He only speaks of the past now. He wishes me to learn something from the past, but I don't know what he is trying to teach me."

"Even Yin misses Pav's strength and guidance," Gil said. "You will learn what you must, _unta_."

Verr looked to him. "You are not prohibited from seeing him," she said. "You are a student of his, too, and are entitled to share his endtime."

Gil shook his head. "I visited Pav while you slept not long after our arrival here." He paused for a moment and his eyes lost focus as though remembering something troubling. "He made it quite clear that his roll in my education is completed. He told me that I must walk my own path and ready myself to face the future."

"He speaks the same way to me," Verr said. "Though I cannot believe he no longer wants to see you—he loves you like a son."

"His mind is on other concerns now." With his hand still on her back, Gil guided Verr down an empty alley. Gil looked to see if anyone had followed them, then lowered his voice. "Has Pav named a successor yet?"

"What?" Verr was taken aback at the sudden shift in the conversation. "Why do you ask?"

Gil wet his dry lips with a quick dart of his tongue. "It is very important, Verr, that Pav names Yin as his successor."

"Never," Verr hissed. "Pav would never do such a thing!"

"For the good of the Si'Frant, he must. Yin has tasted power his clan has never before had, and he claws everyday for more. Even if another successor agrees with our journey to find the Eye of Thanos, Yin will feel threatened by the Mik of Canor. It must be passed to him for the sake of peace."

Verr shook her head. "No." She pulled away from her clanmate. "The entitlement to the Criv is not handed out simply to pacify the need for contentment."

"Talk to Pav," Gil said, no longer bothering to keep his voice low. "Make him see the logic of the situation."

"I will do no such thing." Verr turned on her heel and started back up the alley.

"_Unta_!" Gil called, but she didn't look back or stop until she had put several streets between them.

* * *

"You are even more troubled today than usual," Pav said around mouthfuls of sandray soup.

Verr smiled humorlessly. "I am thinking about a great many things," she answered, dragging a wooden spoon through the thick purplish broth. "You inspire that in me."

"I remember you used to worry about all sorts of things as a child," he said. "In the dogi you would concern yourself with other students and their activities. Sometimes even at the expense of your own focus and studies."

Verr swallowed past a dry throat. "What about Yin? Do you remember him as a child?"

"Of course." Pav smiled faintly. "I remember all who entered adulthood during my reign. Yin is from a clan of dreamers and is very ambitious. He is strong in the old ways of the Si'Frant, but not the new. He could never hold a place in the new future."

"The old ways? New future?" Verr leaned forward. Pav had never talked of such things before. "I don't understand."

"The Si'Frant are dying for a reason, Verr," he said. "We have denied the future for a long time—longer than what is acceptable—and now it is catching up with us.

"To survive we must change, we must grow. The old ways of servitude can no longer apply if we are to see the light of other days. Our path must be one of variation instead of stagnation."

Verr stared wide-eyed at her teacher. "You speak dangerous words, master."

"The words of the free have always been dangerous, child." Pav's gaze caught hers and held it. "Mere words have toppled governments, saved and slain hundreds of thousands, and been the deciding factor between the light and the dark.

"I have seen frightful things in the vision the Knight of the Triforce allowed me to glimpse. A new world order is approaching and I fear many things that are still unknown. I don't know if the Si'Frant have a place in this order, or if our presence in the world could even make a difference either way, but I do know one thing—

"You must choose, Verr."

She shook her head. "I don't know the choices being offered."

"Just choose!" Verr jerked back as though physically struck. "It doesn't matter if you are deciding between governments or whether to wear a blue or red tunic. The choice is everything. It contradicts stagnation and moves one forward.

"If you stand at a crossroad, Verr, and debate which path to take, you will end up nowhere. Take the right path or the left; it doesn't matter if you just move."

Verr shook her head again. "There must be more than that," she insisted.

"What? What more do you want?"

"A purpose."

"_Create your own_. That's what you are doing right now by traveling with the Si'Frant."

"I am Si'Frant!" Verr yelled. "I have no choice but to travel with them."

Pav sighed and sank into his blankets. "Why do you not understand?"

Verr bowed her head like a dejected child. After a long moment, she raised her head and stirred the soup that had gone forgotten during their argument.

"I've lost my appetite," Pav said. "Take the soup away."

"Yes, master." Verr pushed to her feet and moved to the door of the small home.

"Verr," Pav called, stopping her. "Gil understands."

She regarded her old teacher before speaking. Anger and humiliation swirled together in the pit of her stomach. "Then why am I here? Why teach me?"

"Because he can walk the path," Pav answered, "but not lead others to it. If there is any hope for the Si'Frant, you must do both. I am the last of the old; you must be the first of the new. I once thought that was my destiny, but I now see it was always yours..."

* * *

Pav slept for the next two days, becoming only semi-coherent long enough to drink a few drops of water Verr dripped on his parched lips. The leader of the Si'Frant was worse than Verr had ever seen him. No one had survived the illness this long. Most lasted only a day or two, but Pav had endured for weeks. Each day the desperation in his grasp on life showed even more, and the weight on Verr to learn the final lesson increased.

Pav's mumbling the third night woke Verr from her uneasy slumber. She crawled from her small pallet in the corner to his bedside. "You're awake," she said. "I knew you would again return to us."

In the dim moonlight and starlight, Pav shook his head. His eyes were empty of any recognition and sweat glistened on his skin. He trembled violently with chills brought on by a high fever. Verr could feel heat rolling from him as she moved closer to better hear his mutterings.

"Not back," he breathed. "This...endtime."

Verr shook her head. "No." Her fingers sank into the folds of his mattress as her hands clenched. "You can't die now."

"All of us must face Death eventually, child," Pav said. "Someday...you, too. Perhaps he will teach what I could not."

Hot tears ran down Verr's cheeks. She wanted to do something, get somebody that knew what to do, anything but witness what she was now seeing.

Pav's hand shook with fever and weakness as he raised it in the air. "Take...the Mik."

"What?"

"You are my successor, Verr."

Verr shook her head and stumbled backward. "No. I can't lead the Si'Frant!"

"Don't lead." Pav's voice was barely audible. "Offer the choice."

Everything was happening too fast for Verr to comprehend. The room seemed to be spinning. What was she to do? "Gil said if anyone but Yin received the Mik of Canor, it would divide the Si'Frant."

"Gil understands," Pav said again.

"Then it's true?"

He nodded.

"I won't take it!" Verr said. "I won't wear it!"

Surprisingly, Pav smiled. "Defiance...Good. You may yet understand. Live with your choices, my child." The Mik of Canor hit the floor between them with a resounding thump.

Pav's hand fell against his chest and he lost consciousness.

A short time later, Pav, former holder of the Criv and wearer of the Mik of Canor, last of the great Si'Frant leaders, died in his sleep. Verr was the only one to hear his final breath leave his body.

For what felt like hours, Verr stayed where she was on the floor, afraid to move. Something very big had happened, she knew, something involving the very fate of the Si'Frant—perhaps even Pav's new order.

Verr just wished she knew what it was.

* * *

The Si'Frant had wanted to leave as soon as word of Pav's death spread, but Verr insisted they gather and give him a proper burial. It was, she reflected bitterly, the least they could do for the new wearer of the Mik of Canor.

No one, not even Gil, knew of Pav's last words. She had lied and told them he died before passing the authority of leadership on to another. That lie, and their inability to find the Mik after she buried it behind the one-room home, forced the Si'Frant to abandon the tradition of being ruled by the holder of the Criv and wearer of the Mik. They were simply in too much of a hurry to search for the signet ring.

Yin was more than happy to assume the roll of leader in the absence of another challenger, and ordered the Si'Frant to continue to Thanos' palace immediately after the remembrance ceremony.

Verr and Gil watched from the mouth of an alleyway as the Si'Frant began marching again south. "You aren't coming, are you?" he asked suddenly.

Verr blinked bloodshot eyes. "No," she said. "I cannot."

"You will die here," he said. "Away from the community and from your family."

"I know." Verr turned to him and met his sad gaze with one of her own. "But I cannot continue with something that I know to be wrong. The Si'Frant deserve better than to trek like a herd of sandhogs across Canor, stopping only to put the day's dead in the ground."

Gil sighed. "Is this what Pav wanted?"

"I don't know what he wanted," Verr confessed. "I failed his final lesson."

"Then I have failed as well." Gil looked to the side as the end of the precession walked by. "I have failed to keep the Si'Frant together."

"You could lead them," Verr said. "You could have challenged Yin. He could never stand against one of Pav's students—you know that."

Gil shook his head. "I will not lose any more Si'Frant."

"You will lose many more," Verr countered. "And will dig all of their graves. There's nothing left to hold on to."

"My place is with them." Gil stepped forward and enveloped his clanmate in a hug. "For better or worse, _unta_."

Verr returned the embrace. "Travel well, Gil."

"I left a travel pack in Pav's home if you decide to catch up with us," Gil said, drawing back. "Goodbye, Verr."

"Bye."

With a final glance back, Gil walked from the alley and started after the Si'Frant. And, for the first time in her life, Verr was completely alone.


	19. Chapter Sixteen

****

Chapter Sixteen

"Zelda?" Link looked up with a start and glanced back to the south.

"Is something wrong?" Qulanda asked. She, Link, and Duena were standing in a semicircle six paces apart in what had once been a clearing in the forest of Canor. About them were the remains of trees that long ago towered over lush ground. Bare branches scratched together with the touch of the wind sweeping through the wasteland. All three travelers had weapons drawn and stood in combat ready positions.

"What? No, no, I'm fine." Link shook his head to clear away the imaginary echo of the princess' voice. For a short moment, his mind was filled with the memory of when he was twelve and Zelda had entered his dream. "Go back to what you were saying."

The dark clad woman eyed him guardedly for a moment then went back to addressing the group. "Sandrays aren't the most appetizing of all foods, but they're filling enough. There's venom in the tail, mandibles that are like a vice, and teeth that can take your leg off so we must be careful."

"Lovely. How much of a fight do they put up?"

"They live in the sand," Qulanda said. "How much of a fight would you put up if someone tried to pull you from where you live?"

Link adjusted his grip on the Master Sword. Left hand over right and he held the blade at an easy position pointing downward. "Thanks for the warning."

Duena glanced nervously about. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Qulanda? Perhaps we should not be doing this."

"I used to travel into Canor with a close friend when I was younger," Qulanda said, checking the bolt loaded in her crossbow. "Penda and I caught our fair share of sandrays then. We'll be fine if we watch ourselves and don't underestimate the ray."

"I used to go into the woods with a childhood friend," Link commented, "but she and I never tracked big game."

Qulanda gave a tight-lipped smile. "Hardly big game...Not compared to some of the other things in Canor, that is."

Duena let free a worried sounding groan.

"Don't worry," Link said to her. "I have confidence in our skills." Though there's always a first time for everything, he added silently.

Qulanda hefted her small crossbow and said, "A single bolt can kill a sandray if it hits the soft areas underneath its armor, so just clear a shot and it'll be over."

Link nodded to Duena, and, just as he had instructed, she raised her large knife to a high guard position and turned her flank to him. Link likewise turned his profile to her. The two sword wielders now had full sight of the front and either side of the field; Qulanda in between the Goron and Knight and several paces forward would watch the rear of the clearing.

"Go ahead, Qulanda," Link said. He drew two deep breaths and let them out in several quick puffs. A hunter's calm fell over him.

Qulanda reached into her cloak and withdrew a corked bottle filled halfway with grayish-blue sand. Something moved underneath that sand. She pulled the stopper and threw the bottle into the center of the clearing.

Sand spilled out in a stream revealing a bug the size of Link's fist. A hooked tail that rose above the bug's thorax thrashed about angrily. A hiss-click sound began issuing from the bug as it searched for what had uncovered its home.

Link spared a glance at the angry little thing. "Is that poisonous?"

"To us? Very," Qulanda answered. "Shh, now."

"Perfect," Link muttered.

A long minute passed uneventfully. Even the bug started to calm with the apparent peace in the area. The silence continued to stretch into another minute.

"Qulanda," Link said in a hushed tone, "I don't think we're going to get a bite today."

The guide shook her head insistently. "I saw sandray trails all through this area," she said. "They love chitter bugs. I don't understa—"

And then a sandray made itself known. In a blink the ground in the center of the clearing depressed and a creature the size of a small table surfaced. Its shape was like that of an arrowhead. Two tiny eyes were located atop its pointed head. And segmented armor plates, darkened by nature to a shadowy gray color to match the sand, covered its entire body. Still half buried in the sand was a long, whiplike tail.

Link caught a glimpse of a round maw on the underbelly of the sandray as it quickly swallowed the chitter bug. He jumped back as the sand underneath his boots caved into the vacuum caused by the collapse of the ray's tunnel. "Watch your footing, Duena!"

The Goron did not have time to respond. She sidestepped and brought her knife about in a downward slice. The edge of the well-tempered steel hit one of the armor plates just behind the ray's head and deflected harmlessly.

Qulanda raised her crossbow and took aim. "Don't let it get back underneath the sand!" she cautioned.

Link took a step forward, ignored the startling feeling of sinking past his ankles into the disturbed sand, and swung the Master Sword. Moving quickly on unseen feet, the sandray spun to meet the attack.

Link's swing made contact with the same plate Duena had attacked, but the ray's clockwise movement stole some of the blade's force. Link recovered from the deflected blow and saw that he had only managed to cut a finger-deep gorge in the plate.

The sandray's tail suddenly erupted from the sand. Air whistled around it as it sliced through the air toward Link. Duena started to shout a warning, but the Knight already saw the barbed tail point coming at him.

Link abandoned his planned attack and brought his sword in close. The tail was impossibly fast. It came first toward Link's head only to drop suddenly and try to bury one of its pointed hooks in his gut.

Link jumped back and launched into a series of complex defensive forms. The Blade of Evil's Bane flashed left and right as it caught one attack after another. The ring of steel against the rock hard tail hooks sounded in the clearing.

Duena came forward and attacked the ray with a fury of hacks and slashes. Her knife was the best tempered metal the Gorons could make, but it lacked the magically enhanced sharpness of the Master Sword. All her attacks produced were a few scratches on the body armor and the attention of the ray itself.

The angry sandray turned slightly so it could address Duena's attacks and still keep its tail within reach of Link. It lunged forward and locked its mandibles around the Goron's ankle.

Duena gave a cry more of surprise than pain and brought her long knife down sharply. The blade's point passed through the unprotected mandibles without slowing, severing them completely from the ray.

Link turned the tail point away again and stole a glance at his Goron companion. The skin of her ankle was bruised but the skin remained unbroken—a testament to her thick hide. Link knew that if those mandibles had struck him or Qulanda, they would have severed the foot easily.

He ducked underneath another swing from the ray's tail and shouted, "Do you have the shot yet, Qulanda?"

"Not yet," was her short reply. "I would have taken it if I had."

"I could try to pull one of the armor plates off," Duena said, holding her blade at a ready position. "But I fear the tail would then be able to penetrate my skin."

Link inched backward. "Do you really think you could get the leverage needed to remove one of the plates?" he asked her.

Duena considered the question for a moment. "Yes," she said. "I could do it, but I would need both hands and I would be unable to maintain my grip on my knife."

"Leave the tail to me," Link said. "Just grab the next opening you see."

Duena nodded and sheathed her long knife. She stood her ground and flexed her hands in anticipation.

"Same goes for you, Qulanda," Link said, drawing magic from the Master Sword. "Take the shot as soon as it's available."

If she replied, Link didn't know; he was already lost in the dance of magic and blade forms. He gave himself over to the deadly calm the magic offered, and divided his attention between the ray's whipping tail and Duena.

He didn't know if those spiked ends could indeed pierce a Goron's heavy skin, but didn't want to test the theory on Duena. The tail tracked between Link and Duena, as though trying to determine which was the bigger threat.

The Knight of the Triforce relaxed himself into a swordsman's posture, and readied his body for the attack he knew was coming. The timing had to be just right. Too late and Duena risked being hit by the tail; too soon and Link risked leaving himself vulnerable for attack.

He was moving before his mind even realized that Duena was shifting her weight forward. The Knight took a long step toward the sandray, coming within scant inches of its body, and brought his sword about. The blade of legend intercepted the tail as it aimed for Duena and knocked it aside.

Link jumped, letting the magic give him the extra boost needed to escape the thick sand, leaned into a flip, and twisted about as he came down. He landed awkwardly at an angle on the other side of the ray, again facing the creature.

The tail whipped around helplessly, searching the spot where Link had been. Link turned his wrists inward and snapped his sword in an abrupt left to right swing. The magic rushed from the Knight's soul to the edge of the sword, making it sharper and deadlier.

Without slowing, the Master Sword cleanly sliced the tail in half. The barbed ends, still twitching slightly, landed with a clink against the sandray. His balance thrown off by the sword's swing, Link stumbled to the ground.

During the three seconds it took for the Knight to complete his attack, Duena lunged at the ray and dug her fingertips underneath the lip of one of the armor plates. Throwing all of her weight back and up, she pulled. Muscles stood out in her massive arms as the plate slowly gave way to the might of an adult Goron.

And then, with a sickening ripping sound, the armor plate came free. Duena fell backward, the plate still in her white-knuckled grip. The sandray hiss-clicked in protest and tried to stab at Duena with its missing tail, but it only succeeded in splattering black blood over both of them.

Qulanda didn't miss a heartbeat: as soon as Duena was clear, she fired the crossbow. The bolt left the bow with a solid sounding _thwack_ and hit the exposed skin of the sandray.

The bolt passed through the soft flesh and perforated the brain. And it was over. Silence again stretched through the clearing.

Link pushed himself up on his elbows and peered over the ray's carcass. "Is everyone okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Qulanda said, hooking the crossbow on her belt and walking to him. She helped him to his feet and together they helped Duena up.

"I am fine as well," the Goron said when she was again on her feet.

Link wiped sweat from his brow and gazed at the dead sandray. "You used to hunt these things when you were little?" he asked incredulously.

"Well"—Qulanda gave a self-conscious smile—"we tracked rays that were much smaller and didn't quite have all their scales yet."

"The young and the infirm," Link muttered, sheathing the Master Sword and drawing his belt knife. "The way of nature." He took a step toward the carcass.

* * *

Sandray, as it turned out, tasted a lot like overcooked pork. It was a dry meat, but carried a salty taste that eliminated the blandness of white meat.

The fire hissed and popped in the center of the small campsite Link, Qulanda, and Duena had setup not far from the area they hunted the sandray in. Insects and fungi had long since ravished the wood in Canor so it now burned amazingly fast. There was very little solid wood left in the branches and logs to actually burn. Duena pulled apart almost an entire tree each night to make sure they had enough wood.

High overhead the stars of early autumn shone brightly. The moon would not rise for another few hours so there was an impressive view of the constellations Link had spent years sleeping under.

The three travelers sat around the fire, safely tucked in the sphere of warmth and light the flames cast. Link and Qulanda each picked at the cooked sandray meat while Duena attempted to eat several stones she had collected from around the campsite. As she had before every meal in Canor, Qulanda had bowed her head and offered a silent prayer to the Holy Spirits of Light before eating.

Duena bit into a rock the size of Link's head that looked like a large pebble in her hand, and grimaced. "Everything here has a peculiar taste," she complained.

Link glanced at the pile of stones in front of her. "Peculiar how?"

"The rocks here taste...sick."

"Sick?" Qulanda said. "How can stones be sick?"

"I do not know," Duena said throwing the rock down, "but that is how these taste."

"Will you be all right?" Link asked. "Can you eat anything else?"

Duena shook her massive head. "Rocks are all I require, but these can be eaten without illness to me."

"You think?"

The Goron's exoskeleton grated together as she shrugged. "I have not yet become sick and we have been in Canor for more than a week now."

"Almost two," Qulanda agreed.

Link continued to stare at Duena's pile of food. He didn't like the idea of her eating contaminated rocks, but there was little he could do so far from Hyrule or Calatia.

Qulanda pulled the last scrap of meat from a small bone with her teeth and threw the bone in the fire. "You know," she said between bites, "I can't understand how you two ended up traveling together. How did a Goron become involved in a Hylian's search for a missing friend?"

Link glanced at Duena and smiled. "Her people tried to kill me," he said cryptically.

Qulanda's eyes widened in surprise. "What did you do?"

"He trespassed on our land," Duena said. "And he accepted the kilfa. We did not try to murder him."

"You tell it your way, I'll tell it mine," Link said with a wink to let Duena know he didn't hold a grudge.

"How did you get away?" Qulanda asked.

"I bested the Goron champion in their kilfa," Link explained. "And they couldn't make the case that I refused to comply with their rules."

"But they did urge you from the village?"

"As soon as possible," Link confirmed.

Qulanda pulled a piece of skin off the ray and ate it. "But that doesn't explain why Duena is still with you."

"I am on a journey of self-discovery," Duena said. "Link saved me from death while I guided him through the caves underneath Death Mountain, and now I travel with him to return that debt and discover my true self."

Qulanda looked long and hard at Link and said, "Do you make it a habit to save people you don't know?" The jovial tone had faded from her voice.

Link offered a noncommittal shrug in reply. "It just seems to happen," he said.

The trio sat in silence for the rest of the meal. Once finished, Link and Qulanda set about cutting the leftover ray into long thick strips for drying and curing. It would be easier to save meat rather than having to hunt every several days. Some taste might be lost in the drying process, but the time saved would quicken their arrival to the Vless.

While Link and Qulanda worked on saving the uneaten meat, Duena left the camp in search of more wood for the fire. What Link wouldn't give for a nice oak log that would burn most of the night instead of the rotted kindling the trees of Canor offered, but he didn't hold much faith in her finding oak this far into the wasteland.

"We only have a few more days of tea leaves left," Link said as he dug in Qulanda's pack for the curing spices. "Is there anything around here we could use to make tea?"

Qulanda stretched a slab of sandray out and began slicing it with her belt knife. "Sure," she said, pulling dark hair away from her mouth, "there are lots of plants here that could be made into tea."

"Oh."

"Of course," she finished, "all of them are poisonous to us."

"Oh," Link said again, negatively this time. He set the jars of spice aside and helped her divide the meat into strips. "I really don't know how people can live here. Everything seems to be set to keep people away."

"That can be said for all of nature," Qulanda said. "The plants and animals in all areas are adapted to local weather and predators, but we're not. We don't have fur to keep the snow from reaching us, or natural water sacs to keep the desert heat from strangling us."

"Okay," Link said, intrigued. "But doesn't everything around here seem...unnatural to you? Can't you feel the magic in the soil and in the air? Even this sandray has that taste of magic in it. It's as though all of this was crafted as part of some grand design."

"Of course I feel the magic," Qulanda said. "But that doesn't change the simple fact that the environment is a balance of the strong over the weak. It's a biological imperative of nature that the strong, most adapted, must survive. Whether sandrays are natural or part of a spell cast over the land, it must still eat, breed, and, if need be, kill to survive. Take away the magic and it might die, but until you do that, it will follow its biological needs to remain alive. There is nothing abnormal about that.

"This might have been unnatural at one time, compared to what was once here," Qulanda continued, "but now it's a viable, healthy ecosystem. This is Canor, not Hyrule, and that difference does not make it unnatural. Be careful your preference for what you have always known does not become bigotry."

Link thought for a minute then nodded. "You're right," he said. "They're different but the creatures here do fit this area; magic or no magic they are alive and that is not unnatural. Thank you, Qulanda."

The dark headed woman seemed to smile in spite of herself. "You agree with me just like that? No argument?"

"Yes." Link pushed to his feet and removed a tightly wrapped bundle of cheesecloth from his pack. "You made your case, showed me you had given a lot of thought to the Wasteland of Canor, and made me believe it."

Her smile grew broader. "It has been a long time since I was able to debate someone," she said.

Link unrolled the cloth and handed her an end. Together they began wrapping the strips of seasoned meat. The cheesecloth would extract moisture from the meat while also helping to keep bugs away. After a week or two in the sun, the cured meat would be ready to eat.

"Not many deep thinkers in Visola?" he asked as they worked.

"No," Qulanda replied. "I had a friend when I was younger that I always talked to, but she went down river to find work. She was very smart," she added softly.

"I'm sorry." Link finished wrapping the ray and deftly tied the ends of the cloth.

"Don't be." They moved to the next strip. "It is our way. A biological imperative to have children so that the village might be supported in the future."

"And you don't agree with that way?" For a moment, Link wondered if there might be hope for Visola after all.

Qulanda shrugged. "It's not for me," she said after a moment of thought. "It was never possible."

"Is that why people there didn't approve of you?" Link asked gently. "Because you couldn't produce children to support the community?"

Qulanda's throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed. "That is but one of many reasons." She glanced over at him, again brushed hair from her face, and seemed to want to say more.

Link shook his head slightly and said, "Then it is their loss. Yours is the right way; you believe in working for yourself and supporting the community by ensuring that the same freedoms and opportunities are available to all. Theirs is a form of slavery—willing slavery perhaps—and the result is the same: stagnation."

Duena came back then. In her arms she held a tall stack of broken branches and logs. "Will this be enough for the night?" she asked, peering around the sticks.

Link and Qulanda laughed. "I think so," he said. "Though just barely."

Qulanda came to her feet and helped Duena lower the firewood to the ground. A half an hour later the ray meat was bundled and drying, its carcass buried to keep nocturnal predators from wandering into the camp, the horses were cared for and bedded down for the night, and the fire was built up.

Link finished cleaning and sharpening his knife and slid it home in the sheath at his waist. "Okay," he said, "let's get some sleep while there's still night left."

After a long day of walking and the battle with the sandray, the other two travelers didn't argue. Duena promised to wake Link in a couple of hours and moved away from the camp to sit watch.

Qulanda's breathing became easy with sleep much quicker that night, but Link doubted that had anything to do with exhaustion. His traveling companion was beginning to realize she was among friends.


	20. Chapter Seventeen

****

Chapter Seventeen

"Link...Link, wake up! We haven't much time!"

With battle-hardened instincts of one accustomed to traveling, Link came awake with a start. Immediately his left hand went to the hilt of the Master Sword and his gaze went to the one who had woken him.

It was Qulanda, struggling to slide into her cloak. "We don't have much time," she repeated.

"What is it?" Link rolled onto his side and pushed to his feet. Fatigue slowly fell from him. It seemed as though only moments had passed since he had awoken Qulanda to relieve him of watch duty. By the deep purple color of the eastern sky, it may have only been a few minutes.

Duena, quickly gathering loose supplies scattered about the campsite and jamming them into Epona and Avin's saddlebags, spoke first, "There is something hunting us."

Link spun to Qulanda. "What is it? What's out there?"

Qulanda had been scared when he first met her in the Hidden Haystack, had been angry when those two men threw stones at her, but now she looked truly terrified. "The Boonja," she said. "It's the Boonja that is hunting us."

"I don't know what that is." Link looked from her to Duena. The Goron seemed equally frightened by the prospect of facing the Boonja. "How do we fight it?"

"We don't." Cloak now straight on her shoulders, Qulanda kicked dirt over the fire. "We can only run from it."

"Well, what does this Boonja want? Can we reason with it?" Link turned to follow Qulanda as she walked quickly to her horse.

Qulanda paused with her boot in the stirrup. "It wants our souls," she said. "There's no reasoning with it, no bargaining. We can only run; no one has ever fought the Boonja and won. I thought we would be safe taking this far eastern route, but I was wrong. We have to get out of here right now!"

Link opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden screech cut him off. It cut through the air with the sudden severity of a whip crack. It rang through Link's head and raised gooseflesh down his body. He couldn't tell if the noise was a beast's roar or the world crying out in pain.

Once the echo died, and the ringing in his ears stopped, Link nodded and started for Epona. "I'm beginning to agree with you, Qulanda."

Link gave his horse a reassuring scratch behind the ears before mounting her. He gathered up the reins and wheeled Epona around. "Which way?" he asked.

"North and to the Werth," Qulanda said. "The Boonja won't cross water."

"How far?"

Qulanda shook her head. "Miles still."

Link gazed to the north and considered the distance. "We'll hold our reins, Duena," he said. "We won't leave you behind."

"Thank you for that, Knight," Duena said, circling the camp and making sure it was completely dismantled, "but I shall be able to keep pace with your beasts."

"If there's anything left," Qulanda said, "leave it. Better the Boonja have our supplies than have us."

Link agreed. "Go," he told Qulanda. The guide didn't waste a moment; she dug her heels in and cast her mare into a full gallop. In a blink she passed the perimeter of the campsite bound for the Werth River.

"Are you sure you can keep up?" Link asked.

Duena glanced over her shoulder before nodding an affirmative. "Yes, I shall be right behind you. Go now."

Link sighed, but did as she said. Another screech sounded behind him and Epona needed little more incentive to run. Still, though, he held her back. If Duena could not keep up, he would turn back and face whatever this thing was that frightened his two companions so much.

Epona leaped over a stack of dead bushes and the campsite quickly fell behind them. It was still dark, and the moon was only a little more than half full, but Link trusted his mount to find the best path across the sandy ground. After a few moments, he glanced over his shoulder and saw no trace of Duena. Link twisted awkwardly in the saddle, trying to find her. She couldn't be that far back, could she?

Suddenly movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Link glanced downward and saw, much to his surprise, Duena tucked into a neat ball those double joints of hers allowed for, easily keeping pace with Epona. In fact, she was beginning to inch out a lead.

If another screech hadn't sound then, Link would have laughed. He watched as muscles designed for this very sort of travel flexed and relaxed underneath Duena's tough skin, propelling her forward over the more uneven areas of the wasteland.

The Knight leaned down on Epona's back and loosened the reins. Given more freedom, Epona shook her head and galloped even faster. He was careful to keep her from running too fast, however. If he gave her complete control she would without doubt pass Qulanda's ride and take the lead. It was in Epona's blood to be the fastest of the herd and at the head of the charge.

Link held her back for he did not know what the Boonja was, and he wanted to be the one to face it first if it attacked. If he could buy his companions enough time maybe they could reach the river.

The still unseen Boonja cried again. Link cringed and felt Epona give a shudder, too. It was closer now—much closer. Whatever it was, it could apparently give even the fastest horse in Hyrule a run for her rupees.

Link glanced back again and saw blackness. He at first thought the darkness was due to the dim moonlight, but then realized that the predawn light was strong enough to illuminate much of the land around them. His gaze followed the sandy landscape, made slightly purple by the faint light, behind them to a point several leagues back where it just vanished into blackness.

He looked forward and traced the land with his gaze and found he could see much farther ahead than behind him. What was...? And then he realized what the Boonja was: it wasn't a flying creature or a land predator, but blackness itself.

The Boonja moved through the dead forest without slowing or turning to move around trees and rocks; the trees and rocks simply passed _through_ the Boonja. It was as though a storm cloud had come down from the sky and was now chasing them.

Purple tinted sand swirled upward behind the Boonja, stirred by the wake of its passing, and fanned out behind the cloud-creature giving it a more imposing presence than it already possessed.

Link suddenly understood why no one survived a fight with the Boonja. How did one fight something that rocks passed harmlessly through?

"Qulanda!" he called. "How much farther?"

The dark rider ahead of him glanced back. "Half an hour at this speed," she replied. The thundering clamor of running horses almost drowned her voice.

"We're not going to make it," Link said. "The Boonja is still gaining."

Qulanda's raven hair, stirred by the wind, whipped wildly about and masked her face. "The Werth is our only chance," she said. "I don't know of any other way to stop the Boonja."

Another screech sounded behind them. The air shook with the impact of the noise. Epona seemed to draw strength from the cry and doubled her pace, but Avin, already unnerved by the suddenness of their flight, began losing speed. The flank of Qulanda's mount was nearly even with Epona's shoulders.

Link thought hard. There had to be another way. If they couldn't fight, if they couldn't make it to the river, then there had to be another way. He refused to die this way, and he refused to allow his friends to die this way.

"Forget the Werth!" the Knight of the Triforce said. "Where else can we escape this thing?"

Qulanda pulled hair from her mouth and met his gaze. He saw despair and intellect fighting for control in her blue eyes. She was silent for a long moment as she considered his question. "We can try the Baths," she said finally.

Link didn't take the time to question what the Baths were. "Lead the way," was all he said.

Qulanda urged Avin forward once more and turned her from a straight north heading to an east path. Duena somehow managed to keep track of what had transpired between Link and Qulanda and turned as well. Link pulled Epona back and remained on the rear position. They rode steadily toward the rising sun with night and the Boonja at their backs.

Behind them the Boonja cried out and began to contort itself. The cloud mass seemed to pull itself inward, becoming smaller, then exploded out in a massive funnel shape. The tornado bent at the center as though bowing to them, and a sucking sound began issuing from it. Trees were uprooted and horse size rocks were pulled into the giant maw. Wind ripped past the three travelers as they dashed across Canor. Link turned his head away from the gales and closed his eyes from the rush of sand he knew was coming.

The two mares neighed in fright and outrage when the sandstorm stirred by the Boonja swept over them. Link could feel tiny grains of sand sticking to his eyelashes and knew the horses had to be running blind. He felt for them, but dug his heels in nevertheless and pushed Epona forward. He hoped the Baths Qulanda mentioned were close.

The whirlwind around them slowly faded away as the Boonja stopped sucking air down its maw. It dropped its funnel shape and resumed the cloud appearance.

Link looked back and saw that the Boonja was only yards away now. In the light of the quickly approaching day, he could see folds within the cloud shape puckering in and out like tiny mouths. The Knight looked away, disgusted.

The land around them began to change. The dense cluster of dead trees fell away and the ground began to take on a slight incline. Avin and Epona handled the sudden shift to traveling uphill easily, but Duena struggled and started to slow. Link watched as the Goron lost ground. He reached for the hilt of the Master Sword and prepared himself to call the magic for her defense. Silently, he urged her onward for he had no idea how to combat such a creature.

Tall rock formations began passing in Link's peripheral vision. For a moment he thought it was odd that a desert would have so many rocks and inclines, then remembered that this was not a naturally formed wasteland. The 'desert' he'd just passed through used to be a lush forest. Had he not been sitting upon a frightened and tired horse, running for his life, and probably only seconds away from turning back to fight for the life of someone he'd known for only a short time, he would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his thoughts.

The Boonja let free another screech, this one almost plaintive, and fell back. It came to a stop and shot upward, becoming a spinning back tower. Rage and long suffering pain exploded in a feral bellow. The Boonja lost shape again and drifted away on the wind like smoke from a dying fire.

Link pulled Epona's reins and watched with a confused expression as the Boonja retreated. Qulanda also halted her mount and trotted her slowly back to Link. Their mares gasped for breath and were in a heavy lather from the long ride. Knight and guide shared a long glance then dismounted in unison.

Duena came out of her roll on her hands and knees. She stayed like that for a few moments, catching her breath.

Link glanced about, trying to figure out why the Boonja had suddenly given up. They were nearly at the top of the rocky incline, the air was heavy with the stink of rotten eggs, and lichen grew in the shadows of the hundreds of small outcroppings that dotted the area. Lichen. A smile spread on Link's face. Many of the rocks protruding from the ground were dark with moisture.

Qulanda saw his smile and returned it with one of her own. The two looked each other up and down and each saw a friend covered from boot to hair in grayish-blue Canor dirt. Despite themselves, Link and Qulanda began laughing. They laughed until their sides hurt and then laughed some more.

Duena came up beside them and regarded the two with a look of bafflement. "How can you laugh?" she asked. "We almost died."

Link tried to wipe a tear away, but only succeeded in smearing the dirt on his face. "Yes, Duena," he said, "but we're _alive_. We made it!"

Duena thought for a minute. "And this is cause to laugh?"

Qulanda and Link fell against her, laughing even harder.

* * *

Link soon found out how this area had earned the name Baths. After the group had calmed from their hastened dash across Canor, Qulanda led them further up the incline to a small cave tucked almost entirely from view between two towering rock formations. The smell of rotten eggs increased as they neared the mouth of the cave. Link and Qulanda had to bow slightly to make it through the low entranceway, and Duena had to bend all the way at the waist and walk sideways through.

The inside of the cave was much larger, however. Carved into the wall of the cave was a steep path of steps leading down, ending at the lip of a warm spring. Steam drifted upward from the water filling the air with thick humidity. Link immediately felt his clothes stick to his body. Moisture was everywhere—no wonder the Boonja stopped when it did if it hated water. The walls were dark with water and it dripped from stalactites hanging down from the ceiling. The chamber went on for several yards, but Link suspected many smaller tunnels branched off from this cave underneath the water. Vents, most likely, for the underground spring that supplied this cave with heat and water.

Duena closed her eyes, threw her head back, and drew a deep breath. "It is wonderful!" she said, releasing the breath. "Just like home."

Link smiled at his companion. "I could do without the smell though," he said.

Duena frowned at him. "What smell?"

"The water temperature is perfect for bathing," Qulanda said, reaching for her cloak's clasp at her throat. "There are some smaller caves like this one back near Visola. When we were little, Penda I used to swim there whenever we could."

Link walked down two steps and considered the steaming water. "Is there anything living down there?" he asked. "Any little fishes that like to eat Gorons, or giant creatures that will swallow all three of us in one bite?"

Qulanda laughed. "No," she said. "Nothing like that in the Baths. Here we can be safe for a little while." Her voice sounded muffled as she spoke the final words of that sentence.

Link glanced back to see if something was wrong, and saw Qulanda beginning to undress. She had left her cloak in a dusty heap on the floor, unlaced her shirt and pulled the tails from the waist of her trousers, and was now working on removing on her boots. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to take a bath," she said. She glanced down at her dirty clothes and gave a humorless smile. "I could use one after all. You're free to join me—I assure you there are no monsters here."

Link blinked in surprise, then waved her comment away. He could detect no sexual innuendo in her offer. "Thanks, but I'll let you go first."

He started back up the stairs, moving past Qulanda and Duena toward the entrance. At the mouth of the cave, Link looked over his shoulder and saw Qulanda pull her shirt over her head. Her bare back was pale from lack of sunlight and bore several old and faded scars. He walked from the cave and did not look back.

Link walked without pause to where the horses were waiting. He thought about what had just happened in the cave. Though Qulanda hadn't offered herself sexually, he did allow himself to consider such a prospect. She was after all an attractive woman, and it wasn't like he had any formal obligations back home in Hyrule.

After just a few moments of those thoughts, however, Qulanda's face wasn't the one he was seeing. He had a sudden vision of Zelda inside that cave soaking in the warm spring.

"Light," Link swore. "I am that far gone. Next I'll be talking to myself." He drew the Master Sword and decided to clear this mind of such distractions.

* * *

After making sure Qulanda was safe in the water and free from any of Canor's dangers, Duena left the cave in search of Link. She found him atop a relatively flat expanse of rock not far from where they left the horses to rest. The Knight of the Triforce stood with his back to the morning sun, sword drawn, and eyes closed in concentration.

The Wasteland of Canor opened on all sides of him. For miles and miles sand, dead trees, and bleakness stretched as far as the eye could see. Wind rushed across the expanses stirring sand and blowing empty branches. Duena thought about the old stories she heard as a child about how Canor had once been a living forest, not the wasteland all knew it to be now. She imagined Canor was once quite lovely.

The Goron paused and watched Link with intense interest. She knew she was probably intruding on something highly personal for the Knight, but she could not look away. In her journey to find her true self, Duena was also learning much about Hylians and their culture. Many of the things Link and Qulanda shared confused Duena beyond words.

Link slowly raised the Master Sword and brought it about in an easy arc. He let his weight fall onto his right leg and stabbed the sword forward. He moved from one form to the next, entering each with slow deliberation. His eyes never opened and his form ever swayed. Somehow, Duena realized, watching the deadly blade forms in this slow motion was more frightful than seeing Link jump from one to the next while in the heat of battle. This was slow, methodical training to use the sword to kill.

Duena backed away, thinking to give Link time to complete his exercise routine in private.

"You weren't disturbing me," Link said, his eyes still closed.

Duena gave a start. "How did you know I was watching you?" she asked.

Now his eyes opened. "Part of blademastery is to become part of your environment, to join with your blade and let your mind relax in the forms. Once you do that, the sounds of the world, your breathing and heartbeat, and movement of any sort become apparent to anyone willing to listen."

"Blademastery?"

"The swordmasters of Hyrule taught me when I was little," Link explained. "It's a school of discipline, of sword tactics, and a state of being. It says that you must teach the muscles of your body the necessary moves of swordplay so that in battle, your mind is free of doubt and fear."

"You do this every day?"

Link shrugged. "When I was younger I used to do it daily," he said. "But now I only do it when I need to clear my thoughts of distractions."

"Could you teach me?" Duena asked.

Link smiled and nodded. "Of course," he said. "It's been a while since I last had an apprentice though."

Duena drew her knife and took up position next to him on the outcropping.

Link regarded her stance for a moment, then nodded and said, "The basic forms are: high guard; low guard; outer defense; outer attack; inner defense; and inner attack. Imagine two zones around you." With the tip of the Master Sword, he drew two circles around himself in the dusting of sand on the rock. The first circle was two feet from the tips of his boots and the second circle was two feet from the first.

"Most swordplay happens in the outer zone," he continued. "Defend that to the best of your ability. If you cannot hold the outer area, you must retreat into the inner zone. That is your last area of safety before your enemy hits you. In the future, you'll be able to switch from inner forms to outer forms without any interruption in your flow, but for now let's just work on the outer forms."

She nodded her agreement and mimed the movements he showed her. When he switched from high guard to a much lower attacking stance, she noted, he released the sword's hilt, let it tumble until the edge was in place to cut at the imaginary opponent, and caught it again without interruption. She could not do that but vowed to teach herself someday.

Link led Duena through several outer forms, making her perform them again and again until they became second nature. He also talked to her about swordplay. He told her that if she conditioned her body to each form, she would find that in a real battle it would be easier to read an opponent while still dancing the forms. Doubt would also disappear in the repetitive training of the forms.

Duena found that after just an hour of practicing, her muscles were aching terribly. She had forced them into movements that were alien and fought against her own center of gravity. She expressed her surprise to Link.

The Knight laughed. "You'll soon learn to endure much more," he said. "Until then, perhaps we should quit for today."

She agreed and he told her to cool her muscles down properly so she would not be sore tomorrow.

"May I ask you a question?" Duena said while stretching.

Link sheathed his sword and started his own stretch routine. "Of course."

"Why did you not share Qulanda's bath?"

Link glance up in surprise. That obviously was not what he had been expecting her to ask. "Well, Duena," he began, "where I come from men give women privacy to do personal things like bathing."

"But she invited you." Duena sheathed her knife and waited for his response. This was another of those confusing Hylian cultural aspects she hoped to decipher.

Link pressed the palms of his hands together and thought. "Try to understand something," he said. "Some of the males of my kind see women in a rather disparaging way. To some, women are nothing more than an object to use for pleasure. When Qulanda asked me to join her, I believe she was trying to figure out what type of man I am—if I would give her privacy or take enjoyment from her. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Duena said. "But why would she do this in place of simply asking you?"

Link chuckled. "It would probably be easier if we all just asked the things we wanted to know," he said. "Qulanda doesn't yet trust us—at least not me—and this was a test to see if she could someday trust me."

"And you passed?" Duena guessed.

Link looked to the mouth of the cave. "I hope so."

* * *

Later that day Link found himself between two very demanding females. He stood with Epona on one side and Avin on the other. Both pushed and poked him, demanding his full attention. Absently, Link scratched behind Epona's ears while he balanced a wide-bristled brush underneath his arm and struggled to open his waterskin.

Avin, disturbed by Epona receiving an ear scratch, lifted her head and puffed against Link's shoulder.

"I'm getting to you," Link told the offended mare. Once the waterskin was open, he took the brush from underneath his arm and wet the bristles with a trickle of water from the bag.

He set the skin aside and turned to Avin. Using long, slow strokes, he brushed the mare down. Brown, sandy water sluiced from dark hair and pooled on the ground beneath her. Avin closed her eyes and relaxed against his hand. Her breathing slowed and came out as easy snorts.

Link whispered soft prattle as he brushed her, being careful around the sensitive hairs between her ears.

Epona watched him with a narrowed focused gaze. She gave a neigh that sounded very indignant to him.

"Come now, baby," Link said. "I would think you, being as protective of Avin as I know you are, would want her taken care of first. After all, you have always had someone to care for you, but I doubt Avin's been as lucky."

Epona neighed again and bobbed her head. She stepped back and seemed to concede the fight.

Link smiled. "That's much better, baby."

Avin did seem to enjoy the extra attention. Link doubted she received much affection of any kind while in the care of the blacksmith in Visola. While traveling through Canor, Link had tried to show her just as much affection as he gave to Epona in the hope of undoing the neglect of her past. The attention seemed to at once please and confuse her. Not unlike Qulanda, Avin's owner, Link mused.

"Do you always talk to horses?" a voice asked from further up the incline.

Link turned and saw Qulanda watching him with a bemused expression. "Whenever I can," he replied. "They're a very good audience."

Qulanda started down to him, her boots crushing small stones and scree. Her hair was still wet from her soak and she had changed from her travel worn clothes to a pair of brown riding trousers and a gray tunic. Her skin still held a rosy hue from the hot water.

"But they can't talk back," she said.

He shrugged. "They're good listeners though. Just because they can't answer, or even understand every word that's said to them, doesn't mean they don't like the attention of having someone look at them and talk.

"Just like infants, the tone of voice is often more important to them than the words."

At that, Qulanda glanced at her boots. "I wouldn't know about that either," she said.

Link gave her an easy smile. "Come here." He handed her the brush and stepped away from Avin. "Slow, steady stokes are all that she requires."

Qulanda looked dubiously at Link. "I don't know about this...I don't want to hurt her."

"You won't," he said. "Just try it."

As if to emphasize his point, Avin shuffled closer to Qulanda, eager to feel the brush again.

Qulanda started on the side of her horse's neck and slowly dragged the brush through the dark hair. She winced after striking two knots in the mane, but Avin didn't seem to notice.

Link retrieved a second brush from Epona's saddlebags and tended to his horse while Qulanda worked. Epona knew this procedure well and gleefully stood still as Link brushed her down then checked her new shoes for stray stones or damage.

Qulanda watched Link's routine and tried to follow him the best she could, but expressing love for an animal as he did was obviously still too foreign to be comfortable. After they stored the saddles, saddlebags, travel supplies, and bedded the horses down for the evening, the two Hylians started back up the incline. Epona and Avin would spend the night on this lower landing, which was high enough to be safe from the Boonja and close enough to the sporadic clumps of wild plants that had become the horses' diet since entering the wasteland.

Link, Duena, and Qulanda had decided to rest at the Baths for a day or two until they could be sure the Boonja had moved on to more fertile hunting grounds. Rain would provide the perfect cover to leave the Boonja's realm and make it across the Werth, but Link was not willing to pause his quest any longer than two days.

The two Hylians halted their climb near the entrance to the hot spring and looked back at the impressive view offered of Canor. The sun hung high in the sky and cast a golden glow over the entire wasteland. Deep shadows cut like bottomless pits across the vista in the lower, valleylike trenches to the west.

Wild boar like creatures with tusks that curled up past their snouts moved in a winding herd in the distant north, and large birds of prey flapped their leathery wings as they soared to the east and south. In that moment, to Link's eyes, the Wasteland of Canor was at once desolate, forsaken, feral, and beautiful.

It was silent as the two stood watching the landscape of sand, dead trees, and wild animals. The only sound was the steady roar of the wind as it cut across the wasteland leaving stirred sand in its wake.

"Link," Qulanda ventured, breaking the silence, "have you ever been down the Werth?"

The Knight of the Triforce tore his gaze away from the vista and met her waiting eyes. "If you mean have I been down the river itself, no I haven't. But if you mean have I been through Calatia and sailed the Great Hyrulian Sea, then yes, I have."

"Oh." She nodded and thought for a moment. "What is it like?"

"Calatia or the sea?"

"Both. The world. What is it like outside of Canor?"

Link let a quip die on his tongue when he saw that she was serious. He tried to determine why she was asking and condition his response accordingly. "Well, Qulanda," he said. "The world is a wondrous place filled with things that deny belief, things that will overtake you and satisfy all possible dreams. People that are infinitely interesting and intriguing, places whose beauty go beyond mere words, and sights that are like living works of art.

"But it is also a place of extreme danger. To one unwilling to face the required challenges and learn from the inevitable mistakes of journeying beyond what is safe and known, the world can be home to misery, pain, and loss.

"The world is, as are many things, a scale by which one can measure his or her character."

Qulanda was quiet for a long moment. "When you sailed the sea," she said finally, "did you encounter any pirates or thieves?"

Link blinked at the strangeness of the question and sudden topic change. "No," he said, "not on the Great Hyrulian Sea. Why?"

Qulanda sniffed, quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and shook her head. "No reason." Without another glance, she turned and continued up the incline.

Link spared one last glance at Canor before following her. The next day would be peaceful and relaxed, he knew, but soon it would be time to again travel the sands of the wasteland. The next stop was the Werth River and then the Vless.


	21. Chapter Eighteen

****

Chapter Eighteen

After three weeks of traveling and almost another week of being waylaid by unusually strong storms for this time of year, Zelda was within sight of the Tower of Magic. She, Impa, Glenn, and Irbe had crossed the Jidra River separating Hyrule and Calatia days before without incident. Despite Glenn and Irbe's never ending concern, there were no shadowy bandits following them.

Zelda had initially found the momism of her three guards endearing and even comforting, but after a month of their over protectiveness she was ready to scream. Her only relief was at night when the group set up camp and she did her part by caring for the horses.

But that element of the trip was behind her, at least for a short while. Before her rising an impressive seven stories above the ground was the Tower of Magic. It was wide at the base and narrowed with each level before finally giving way to a single chamber that was the entire seventh floor. That chamber was where the Ruling Council convened and presided over matters of magic.

Princess Zelda was no stranger to wonder, but the Tower even managed to strike awe in one as traveled as she. It was truly one of the most impressive handmade constructions in the known world. It had outlived palaces and kingdoms alike. At one time, she knew, there were many such training institutions in the world, but now only this one remained. A single home for all the guilds, classes of mages, and spell casters.

Impa, the only one of the group seemingly unimpressed by the grandeur before them, slid from her saddle and handed Shadow's reins to Irbe. She spared a scowl at the Tower before walking to Zelda.

"You know my feelings," the Sheikah said. "You know my teachings. Guard yourself well, Princess, and trust none of those people." With that, she turned and walked several paces back the way they came, sat down in a cross-legged posture, and began meditating.

Glenn and Irbe looked on in shock, but Zelda had known that it must be this way. The policy of the Tower was nonnegotiable. If they expected the Council to cooperate, Impa could not be present.

Zelda pressed her legs into Masie's sides and urged her forward. "Let's go, gentlemen," she said to her guards.

Glenn and Irbe quickly fell in step behind Zelda. The shuffle of many hooves over manicured grass was the only sound as they started toward the Tower of Magic. Impa did not stir as they left, and never opened her eyes to watch them as they traveled.

Zelda shifted on the saddle and pulled at the hem of her dress. Dresses, parted or not, were hardly comfortable clothes for riding. She had changed from trousers and a tunic for this last leg of the trip as a matter of protocol, not comfort. She wanted to handle this affair as professionally as possible.

Zelda was now clad in a white dress with intricate lace work starting at the high collar and winding down the sleeves. Her hair was clean and pulled back tightly. Over the dress she wore a fashionable riding cloak secured with a gold broach shaped to look like a joined Triforce. She knew that without any other jewelry on, the eyes of the wizards would involuntarily look at that broach. A direct message was what she intended.

"I don't understand why Impa ain't comin'," Glenn said. "Why would she want to stay all the way out here?"

"It's not a matter of wanting," Zelda replied, "but of being forced to remain off Tower grounds."

Irbe glanced at her in surprise. "They can do that?"

Zelda nodded. "We are no longer underneath Hyrule or Calatia law; here, the wizards rule."

"But why would they not want Impa here?"

The princess glanced at the Tower growing closer and closer. She wondered if there was enough time to explain the complexities of this matter before a party arrived to escort them inside.

"Impa is not allowed on the grounds because she is of the Sheikah," Zelda said. "The Sheikah philosophical viewpoint regarding magic and its use differs greatly from the view of the wizards.

"The Sheikah believe that true strength means being able to defeat an enemy. Robbing an opponent of his or her power and using it against them. To the Sheikah belief structure, everything—including innocents—are potential weapons to serve the greater good.

"Wizards on the other hand believe that true enlightenment comes from understanding—understanding nature, magic, people, and the reasons behind our actions. They believe in learning and then educating those they deem as wrong. Non-violence is the rule by which all wizards and spell casters must obey save for special circumstances.

"You have no cause for alarm here, Captain, for none of these spell casters could purposely harm you or me without risking serious punishment—possibly even death."

"You sound like you don't agree with that," Irbe said. "Isn't it wrong to harm or even kill someone when they could never be on even footing with you?"

Zelda shook her head. "Be mindful of such thinking," she said. "You may end up in a disastrous situation because of it. You and Glenn have received the best training my country could provide so that you two might defend its people the best and most efficient way possible.

"Should I order the same training be offered to all our unfriendly neighbors so you don't harm one of their troops with superior training?"

"Magic and arms training are not the same thing," Irbe said with a frown. "I've fought magic, and trust me, it's not the same thing."

"Whether one calls down a lightning bolt to strike an enemy," Zelda said, "or drives a sword through the heart of the same enemy, I doubt it matters much to the enemy. Dead is dead no matter how you package it."

"That don't answer why the wizards won't let Impa on their grounds," Glenn said. "If they understand her way, and want to support peace, then why ain't she allowed?"

"That is the flaw in their way," Zelda said. "Peace is a noble goal, but not by way of ignorance. The wizards and Sheikah are both firmly set in their respected beliefs—each believing the other is wrong.

"The people we are about to meet have the right idea, but are blinded to any other way of thinking. They understand only to a point—just enough to appear wise and to reaffirm that they are in the right. The wizards won't back away from their convictions and neither will the Sheikah."

"So who is in the right?" Irbe asked. "Sheikah or Tower?"

Zelda shrugged. They were almost to the main entrance of the Tower. "Both and neither," she answered.

Irbe shook his head and let the subject drop. Ahead two wizards appeared in the open archway of the Tower of Magic and watched the princess and escorts approach. One was tall with light, thinning hair. A lifetime spent using magic had held back age but a deep-set maturity rested comfortably in his green-eyed gaze.

The other wizard was—Zelda did a double take and struggled to maintain her passive expression—a necromancer. Clad entirely in black with only a hook tipped dagger for adornment, the necromancer was much shorter than his comrade but still held the air of superiority common for many spell casters. He stood a pace behind the first wizard and kept his hands neatly crossed and held in the wide sleeves of his dark robes.

Aside from Jarod, Zelda had never before seen a necromancer. She suddenly recalled all the foolish tales told to her when she was a child about wizards of the dark arts. There were many misconceptions about necromancers, and she forced some of the more frightful ones from her mind as she prepared to meet the representatives.

The two wizards walked down the steps leading to the entranceway of the Tower and took up position on the ground landing as Zelda drew her horse to a halt. Together they bowed. "Greetings, Your Highness," the first wizard said. His voice was smooth and well cultured. "I am Lajos Britno, Alterer of the First Order. My companion, Keiran Hewitt, Necromancer of the Fourth Order."

Zelda doubted an odder pair could have welcomed her. Just as necromancy dealt with the power of death, alteration wove the power of life into objects to strengthen them against outside influences. Alterers changed the basic nature of stone, metal, and wood and made them almost invulnerable. That guild had crafted many of Hyrule Castle's defense fortifications. Swords and bows crafted by a wizard of the Alterer guild were highly prized and dangerous.

She straightened her back and looked down at the spell casters. "Hello, wizards. The notice sent ahead by Ambassador Britno arrived on schedule, I see."

"Yes, my daughter is quite reliable with such matters." Lajos stepped forward and offered a hand to help Zelda down from her mount.

Zelda accepted the proffered hand and dropped smoothly to the ground. Behind her, Glenn and Irbe similarly dismounted and took up protective positions around her.

"If you would come with me inside, Princess Zelda, I will show you to your chambers," Lajos said. "Aides will see to your horses."

"Actually, I would like to begin my search of your archives immediately," Zelda said, falling in step with the head wizard as he walked to the entranceway.

"Surely you are tired after such a long trip," he said, smooth tone never once breaking. By his bearing and manner, Zelda could tell that Lajos Britno was trained in politics as well as in magic. Little wonder his daughter was already highly ranked in the political world.

"Chasing dead ends tires me more," she said. "I would like to start immediately."

He gave a smile that was doubtlessly forced. "Of course, Highness."

Together they walked through the Tower's main entrance, which was big enough for several people to comfortably stand shoulder to shoulder. The outside of the Tower of Magic was a symbol of the old days of ruling wizards and meant to impress, but the inside was artwork given life.

The entrance hall opened to a circular chamber big enough for people at the far end to appear small enough to vanish behind a raised thumb. Richly designed rugs of burgundy, blue, and black covered a floor made of smoothly buffed marble. Numerous chandeliers made of intricately carved blackwood hung from the high ceiling. Along the marble walls, in between paintings and tapestries from all around the world, were balls of flickering fire. The fireballs were like strings of orange and red pearls up and down the entire chamber. They cast no heat but did give off a soothing light that left no room for shadows.

Throughout the round chamber were archways that led deeper into the Tower. Down some archways, Zelda saw wide ascending and descending stairways. Wizards, witches, apprentices, and non-magical students mingled about the room. Many walked purposeful from one archway to another, but some walked along the walls and seemed to be admiring the museum like institution around them. The air was pleasantly heavy with the smells of old knowledge and melted wax.

Lajos extended an arm and gestured to those hurrying about the chamber. "As you can see, Princess, this is a rather busy time for us. The Ruling Council is currently in session and that is demanding much of our attention. Were things quieter, our reception for your visit would naturally be more...festive."

"Of course, Wizard Britno." Zelda did not doubt his claim of the Council being in session, but did not believe that was the reason for only two wizards meeting her. The Tower had a special reason not to welcome her visit. "I came here for knowledge, not for festivities."

Britno led her through the main chamber to an archway. Glenn, Irbe, and Keiran followed them silently. Written in several languages above the doorway—including Old Hylian—was the word 'necromancer.' Inside the arch was a landing several feet in diameter and two staircases, one leading up and the other down. Three flickering balls of fire moved about slowly overhead.

"I'm afraid I must attend the Council, Princess," Lajos said, pausing at the base of the ascending staircase. "My colleague shall see to your needs in my absence." Bidden, Necromancer Hewitt stepped forward from the rear of the group. "He will answer your questions about Sorcerer Thanos." From his wording and tone, Zelda got the impression that was more of an order than attempt to assure her.

"If it is possible," Lajos continued, "I would like to meet with you tomorrow and speak about the theft my daughter mentioned. Good day, Highness." He gave a slight bow at the waist and then vanished up the stairs in a flourish of brown robes.

Keiran watched the wizard leave and then turned to Zelda. "Perhaps my private office would be more appropriate?" His voice, Zelda noted, was strained and slightly off pitch.

"Yes, thank you," she said. "I have many questions and very little time."

"I shall do my best to answer those questions." He gestured to the stairs leading down. "The enclave is down there."

The stairs were long and winding, but Keiran only gave a few glances to where he was going; most of his attention was on Zelda and her lips. Zelda thought he must have had a lot of experience climbing these steps.

"I feel I must apologize for my colleague's behavior," he said after a time. "Lajos was told to be polite and accommodating, but he was neither. He is a very powerful wizard and often forgets how to interact with those not associated with the Tower."

Zelda shook her head. "I have other concerns than niceties right now," she said. "And I suspect his behavior was planned long in advance. While I was still little, my father decided that I would receive magical training from a Sheikah rather than the Tower. I don't think some here ever forgave that break in tradition."

Keiran nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. "I was still a lower ranked wizard at the time, but I remember the stir that decision caused."

Zelda blinked in surprise. Keiran looked the same age as her, but if he were fully trained almost thirty years ago...

"I celebrated my seventy-third birthday two months ago," he said, reading the unspoken question in her expression. Behind them, Irbe stumbled and had to grab the wall to keep from falling. Zelda glanced back and smiled, but Keiran didn't even acknowledge the clamor.

"Does my age surprise you?" he asked.

"No," Zelda lied. "I am well aware of the long life spans of wizards."

He chuckled. "Not that long. With my low skill level, I can expect only another hundred years or so. My master, Sorcerer Ossie, is still head of the enclave at triple that expectancy."

Irbe coughed and Glenn muttered an agreement.

"You are not the leader of the enclave then?" Zelda asked.

"No," he said. "I have become Master Ossie assistant of sorts as he has aged. My duties are sadly administrative now; I used to work with apprentices and handle field assignments."

"It must be quite a change for you."

"It is my honor to serve such a great man as Ossie," Keiran said.

Zelda could see a landing further down the stairs. "May I ask you a personal question?" she asked.

"Of course."

"From what origin is your accent? I've never heard another like it."

Again he chuckled. "I would not know," he said. "You see, I have never heard an accent before in my life. Not yours or anyone else's. I was born without the ability to hear."

Zelda's mask slipped and shock showed openly on her face. "You use magic then to pick up spoken words?"

He shook his head. "No, my gift is for necromancy and not for anything like that. The Tower recognized my ability early in my life, and, along with teaching me magic, they also taught me to watch people and to read their lips."

"How do you keep from missing words?" Zelda asked.

"I normally miss a few with each sentence," Keiran answered. "But the general idea is conveyed." He leaned in as though telling a secret. "People use a lot of unnecessary words so it usually helps to miss a few here and there."

Zelda smiled. "I believe that."

The four stepped from the staircase to a landing that looked like a replica of the one they left several flights up. Keiran led the group through the archway and down a series of twisting corridors. Just as in the main chamber above, fireballs cast a warm golden light down each hall, but Zelda felt a distinct chill. It was her imagination, she knew, but the light seemed dimmer here than above. She was suddenly very aware of the weight of the Tower pressing against the ceiling.

They passed no one and Zelda wondered how many necromancers made up the enclave. She knew there were over a thousand wizards at the Tower, but the gift of necromancy was not a common one.

As they continued deeper into the necromancers' enclave, Zelda became aware of passing through dense shields of magic. A feeling akin to a strong breeze trying to push her backward marked each invisible shield. She knew that without Keiran's presence, the barriers would have been impossible to walk through. The thought of spending the rest of her life trapped far beneath the Tower of Magic was constant in the princess' mind.

"Here we are." Keiran halted in front of an archway sealed by a smooth wall of stone. "This used to be Master Ossie's office, but he now oversees the enclave's affairs from his personal chambers. With no one else using it, the office ended up in my care."

"How do we get in?" Irbe asked. "Just walk through the wall?"

"Your guards are welcome to wait out here if they wish to maintain security, Princess."

Glenn stepped forward so he was in Keiran's direct line of sight. "We'll come in," the general said.

Zelda nodded and gestured for Keiran to continue.

The necromancer turned to the sealed archway and pressed his right hand to the smooth surface. Instantly, the granite gave way and dissolved into sand. Gray sand, ankle high, moved by itself in a line to the corners of the archway.

"After you, Princess."

Zelda glanced at Glenn and then stepped into the office. Irbe followed next, then Keiran, while Glenn brought up the rear. The chamber beyond the archway looked more like a workshop to Zelda than an office. The long, stone room had three rectangle shaped tables set lengthwise that overflowed with papers, quills, open bottles of ink, and books the size of Zelda's hand and armspan. A cold hearth with a caldron covered in cobwebs hanging on a cooking hook sat in the far end of the office. The room smelled strongly of old paper and ink. Plates with half-eaten food on them lay cluttered about, forgotten.

Keiran waved a hand absently toward the mess and walked deeper into the office. At his silent command, papers, plates, and inkbottles lifted into the air and began searching for order. The papers stacked themselves together in the corners of the room, inkbottles found their places near the quills, and the plates piled atop each other and floated out the open archway.

"There we go," Keiran said with a self-satisfied smile. "Please have a seat, Princess Zelda. Would you or your guards like refreshments? I could have some food sent down."

While Glenn and Irbe took up positions on either side of the archway, Zelda walked to the table in the rear of the chamber and sat on one of the benches there. "Thank you, no," she said. "I wish to have my questions answered as quickly as possible. I meant what I said about not having much time."

Keiran slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "Of course." He sat across from her and gave his full attention to her. "Ask your questions."

Zelda swallowed hard and began. "First, are you familiar with an object of magic known as the Eye of Thanos?"

Keiran compressed his lips into a thin line. He nodded.

"Tell me about it please."

"Perhaps it would be easier to begin with Necromancer Thanos himself?" Keiran said. "What do you presently know about him?"

"I know that he was a rogue wizard that declared himself ruler of Canor two thousand years ago," Zelda said. "I also know that he was an inventor of somewhat notable skill."

Keiran smiled at that. "If not for his skill of inventing," he said, "the name Thanos would not be remembered at all. He possessed many dreams of ambition, but lacked the power or wisdom to fulfil his aspirations.

"He was the student of an accomplished sorcerer. Necromancer Horate had already lived a full life before Thanos was born. He traveled far and expanded the Tower's library with many great experiments that brought back spells long forgotten. He possessed the power Thanos so long sought."

Keiran paused and drew a deep breath.

"Thanos was not an easy student," he continued. "He wished for a place in the history books. He struggled to not equal Sorcerer Horate, but surpass him. After graduation, he became obsessed with his teacher's old exploits around the world. From some of Horate's failed experiments, Thanos became convinced that we, as wizards, could do much more with our gifts than we do now. He wrote several papers theorizing that we could step beyond the laws of nature to a higher level."

"Godhood?" Zelda asked.

Keiran shook his head. "No, not such a melodramatic word. Simply more than we are now. A state that brings with it a greater understanding of all nature. The Ruling Council felt that Thanos would calm with age and experience so they sent him from the Tower to join with a contingent of Calatia soldiers that were exploring the wilds of Canor.

"That proved to be a mistake for Thanos then believed that he was being offered a chance to equal Horate's great travels. He and the soldiers traveled deep into Canor—it was different then. Woodlands stretched beyond the horizon and life filled every corner of the land. People and communities lived in abundance then. Now, they struggle in small colonies."

He took another deep breath and Zelda had the distinct impression that the story was about to turn into a tragedy.

"Thanos' reports came with regularity at first. After almost ten years in Canor, however, he would become silent for months at a time. The Ruling Council was not worried because wizards often become involved with observing locals and are unable to find the time to cast the necessary incantations to send a report.

"It would be too late for worrying by the time the Ruling Council learned the truth. Thanos stayed in Canor while the soldiers with him rotated routinely. After Thanos' final report talked about rumors of the mythical Chamber of Tears being discovered, the Council called him back for a formal report of his actions in Canor. He refused their command and killed the Calatia soldiers ordered to return him to the Tower."

Keiran hung his head at that statement. Zelda understood that murder to a wizard of the Tower was a sin of the highest degree. Life was what they worshiped, even necromancers in their own unique way.

Keiran straightened and continued, "Thanos remained hidden for a very long time after that incident. Wizards and soldiers searched Canor for the rogue mage, but none possessed his understanding of that land. We had thought him a distant memory after decades of silence, but then he declared to the world that he was the ruler of Canor. He had gathered a following of people believing he would unite Canor into the mightiest country the world had ever seen. They built a palace for him to pursue his unsanctioned magic, and did horrible things to those that refused him. When Thanos issued a trade tax on all things imported, Calatia readied an army to go into Canor.

"Thanos refused Tower mediation and confined the tax to only those areas still unmarked as Calatia land."

"Meaning if the army attacked," Zelda said knowingly, "he could claim they were the aggressor and rally even more support to his cause. The merchants of the day would then have to choose between cutting business that had been operating for decades or paying whatever tax Thanos set down for them." Magic may not be something she completely learned, but politics were her life.

"Exactly," Keiran said. "The soldiers were withdrawn and Thanos ruled unchallenged for many years. The principality of Calatia forgot about him and the Ruling Council laughed at him. They did not even care when word reached them that Thanos had taken an apprentice. That feeling changed though when the Council detected the stirring of powerful magic in Canor."

"What sort of magic?" Zelda asked.

"The construction of the Eye of Thanos was what they felt," Keiran said. "It was a magic beyond Thanos—or so we believed—it was beyond all of the wizards of the Council, too. It was old, very old. From a time long forgotten when terrible battles were fought with magic over control of the countries of the day."

"Was the magic Si'Ra in origin?" Zelda asked.

"There were no Si'Ra, Princess," Keiran replied. "They are just a myth used to frighten children at night."

Zelda smiled. "The Si'Ra were very real, wizard. I fought one three years ago and imprisoned it in the underworld."

Keiran returned her smile with a slightly condescending one. "Perhaps you only fought a spell caster that claimed to be one of the legendary creatures of magic?"

"Perhaps," Zelda lied. "Continue, please."

"Thanos was constructing what he hoped would be his legacy. An object of such power it could reach into the past and alter the history of its owner. The Council believed that Thanos managed to join with the land of Canor and used its energies to augment his power. There is little else to explain how such a low ranking wizard could have commanded such sorcery.

"The Eye did have limits though. Only one wizard could possess the Eye at one time, and only the death of one user could release it to another. The Eye lives you see; it must have a life to sustain its own. Thanos successfully created a magical parasite.

"Afraid of what Thanos would use the Eye to alter, Sorcerer Horate requested the Ruling Council send him to Canor in order to rein in his old student. The Council complied and...Horate confronted Emperor Le'Ven'Giloy in Thanos' palace."

Keiran removed his hands from his sleeves and placed them palm down on the tabletop. "What I am about to tell you has been constructed from the stories told by Thanos' former followers before they died. Horate and Thanos fought vigorously, and the duel finally ended with Thanos besting his teacher and slaying him." The necromancer's eyes lost focus for a moment. "It is said the death of such a great sorcerer was felt by every magic-sensitive in the world.

"Then, once Horate was dead, Thanos' apprentice, Fegobvesjarod, rose up and killed his master. How an untrained wizard could beat a full wizard powerful enough to best one as strong as Horate is unknown, but that story matches what those here at the Tower sensed.

"When Thanos died at the hands of his pupil, a cord was severed and Canor also died. The water became poison, the trees withered, and the soil became unfertile. Around Thanos' palace and outward became a wasteland. Monsters, many too horrible to describe, were born out of the land's suffering. The followers that so faithfully believed in Thanos while he lived quickly disbanded and fled the land that overnight turned into their enemy. Some lived for a year or two, but most died before even escaping the Wasteland of Canor.

"Healers here at the Tower treated some of them, but nothing could be done to stop the death that had gripped them by the throat. All save for the Vless—which never aligned themselves with Thanos—died. The Council sent wizard squads into the wasteland with the intent of retrieving the Eye and Thanos' apprentice, but they could not find either.

"Webs of pure dark magic—magic devoid of all life—sealed much of Thanos' palace, forever locking away the knowledge."

Zelda sat back and digested the story of Thanos. She had expected to feel...more relieved than she did. Instead of being happy to have finally tracked down all the information on Thanos she needed, she felt an even greater sense of urgency and fear. She suddenly hoped Link was very close to Thanos' palace and to Duncan. "Could you provide me with a map to Thanos' palace?" she asked. The weakness in her voice surprised her.

"Of course," Keiran said.

"There was a theft here forty years ago," Zelda said. "I was told it involved something of Thanos'."

Keiran shook his head. "Four students stole the personal memoirs of Sorcerer Horate," he corrected. "The book was sadly destroyed in the attempt to capture the thieves."

"I would like to know more about that event," Zelda said.

"That story is Wizard Britno's to tell," he said. "He was an apprentice at the time and took part in the tragic retrieval attempt. He shall meet with you tomorrow and you may ask him then."

Zelda nodded and stood. "Thank you very much for speaking with me, Necromancer Hewitt."

He came to his feet and bent slightly at the waist in a formal bow. "It was my pleasure to serve, Princess. If I may ask, do you have business elsewhere in the Tower, or should I show you to your prepared chambers?"

The knowledge of what Duncan was now able to do weighed heavily on Zelda's shoulders. "The guest quarters sound like a good idea," she said with a smile.

"Of course, Highness. If you would follow me...?"

As they made their way back through the twisting corridors of the Tower of Magic, Zelda pulled Glenn aside and said, "Once we are clear of the enclave, leave the Tower and report all that you just heard to Impa. Let her know that I'll be staying here for a few days."

Glenn glanced at the necromancer walking a couple of paces ahead of them, making sure he wasn't looking their way. "She ain't gonna like that," he said. "Ya know how she gets about Tower business."

"I know," Zelda said, "but once I learn what happened here forty years ago, we can plan our next move."

"Back to Hyrule Castle, I hope?" Irbe spoke up behind them.

"I don't know yet, Captain," Zelda said, ignoring his breach of protocol. "I'm still trying to figure out what Duncan is going to do with the Eye of Thanos."

"I'll try to get Impa to go to one of the inns off the Tower grounds," Glenn said. "But I doubt she'll go."

"Thank you, Glenn," Zelda said. "Do your best and report back."

The burly general glanced back at Irbe and then nodded. "Aye."

* * *

High above the necromancers' enclave and the ground floor of the Tower of Magic, Lajos Britno stood on the balcony of his personal chambers watching the sun lower into the horizon. Sunset was still some time off, but the sun was low enough to cast an orange sheen over the mountainous landscape around the Tower.

Lajos was not enjoying the scenic vista offered by his lofty position though. He had a bad taste in his mouth. Schuyler, his foolish and worthless daughter, should have known better than to send the Princess of Hyrule here with information about Thanos and the theft of Horate's memoirs. The Tower handled those incidents and no one outside the Tower had the right to pass judgement on the things done by wizards.

He never cared for the superior attitude held by Hylians—a belief heightened when King Harkinian had thumbed his nose at the Tower by rejecting its offer to train Zelda. Lajos grimaced in disgust; he knew somewhere beyond the boundaries of the Tower was Zelda's tame Sheikah Witch.

How Harkinian could have allowed the vile beliefs of the Sheikah to taint his daughter was a mystery to Lajos. There would come a time, he knew, when the last Sheikah and he would meet. And no Hylian monarchy would be there to help the Sheikah from understanding the proper usage of magic.

"Your dinner is ready, sir," a meek voice said from inside the chambers.

Lajos turned to his wife. "Leave it for me," he said. "You may then retire."

"Yes, sir."

When she was gone, he glanced back to the landscape around the Tower. He looked without seeing at the rolls of hills and valleys that patch marked northern Calatia. The wind rushing around him was cold and biting, but he did not notice it. Tomorrow, he would meet with the Sheikah trained princess, and then she would leave and his life would again be normal.

* * *

Glenn finished recounting what he had heard and saw in the necromancers' enclave and rocked back on his heels. "Well?" he asked.

He stood in one of the third level rooms of the Best of the Fold Inn. Impa sat on the foot of the room's small bed, her arms crossed tightly and her gaze impassive. She had surprised him by agreeing to take a room at one of the twelve inns near the Tower of Magic. The inns were all located in exaggerated farmer's markets around the Tower. During the warm seasons, traveling merchants would setup in booths and stands along the streets and display their wares. But many of those stands and booths were empty because winter wasn't far off and only the merchants that dealt in furs had stayed this far north.

The Best of the Fold Inn was a three level building that promised the cleanest rooms and best ale of all Calatia. Glenn didn't know about cleanliness or the ale, but the rooms certainly seemed the smallest in all Calatia. The room was quite narrow with only one window looking down at an empty street to break the monotony of plain white walls. A single oil lamp that looked older than he and Impa combined filled the room with light.

"I think Zelda is spending the night in a den of wolfos," Impa said.

"'Bout Thanos," Glenn said, giving a nervous glance at the low ceiling. "The princess wants yer opinion."

"My opinion is that the wizards are being truthful to a point," Impa said. "I don't know what they are concealing, but I have never known a wizard to be completely honest. I find it hard to believe that they would be so forthcoming about an object like the Eye of Thanos. Not only is it powerful, but it was crafted with magic the wizards of today know nothing of.

"Tell Zelda that I feel they are or will try to use her to recover the Eye of Thanos for them. And once she has, they will take it from her, by any means necessary, and deny it ever existed. That is my report."

"Thank ya, Impa." Glenn turned to leave, but stopped in front of the door. "Ya know," he said, "it's been a while since I was last in Calatia."

"Almost thirty years now," Impa agreed neutrally.

"I was just a wee lieutenant then," he said. "And I was here with Zelda's mother. The King ordered us to run to ground, and she, a Knight o' the Triforce, and me ended up here."

Impa stood and approached him. "I know the story well," she said. Her brown-eyed gaze found his and held it. "We are satellites orbiting great people, General Tarmag. Secrets and lies are our only weapons to protect them. You know that, right?"

"Aye," he said after a long moment.

"Good." Impa opened the door and held it for him. "If you hurry, you can make it back to Zelda before night sets in."

Glenn nodded and left without another word. He suddenly wished he were anywhere but Calatia.


	22. Chapter Nineteen

****

Chapter Nineteen

Link, Duena, and Qulanda left the Baths after two days of waiting. They left early in the morning under the cover of light drizzle. They rode hard and fast over the fields of Canor even though there was no sign of the Boonja. After an hour of steady north and west travel, they reached the Werth River.

The clear river flowed from the Jidra River east of Visola and emptied into the Great Hyrulian Sea. At one time large barges carried goods of sale to ports throughout Canor down the Werth, but now it ran undisturbed by anything handmade.

Qulanda had led them to the shallowest part of the river she knew of, but Duena hadn't wanted to cross. Epona and Avin had made it without the water reaching past their shoulders, but Duena wasn't convinced it would be safe for her.

Then Link did something that Qulanda would never forget. He dismounted, handed his cloak to her, left his sword on the ground, and waded into the running water. Submerged to his chin, the Knight of the Triforce walked back to his Goron companion and assured her that it would be safe.

With her arm around his, Duena had ventured into the cold water. As the pair slowly traveled the Werth one step at a time, Qulanda heard Link promise the Goron that he would save her if anything bad happened. And, as improbable as it seemed, she and Duena believed he would, too.

Once on the shore, Link took his cloak from her and joked about the briskness of the water. Qulanda then decided that she could no longer lie to her two companions. If Link would so easily plunge into icy water for her or Duena, then the least she could do was be honest with him.

They continued traveling west after that, hugging the banks of the Werth. Qulanda kept them on that course because she knew as the Werth slowly turned to the south they would soon leave it behind to meet with the Vless.

They, the Vless, were something else weighing heavily on Qulanda's mind. It had been years since she and Penda had first encountered the Vless and she did not know how they would greet her.

It was in their village years ago that she had first acted upon the feelings that had filled her with guilt and shame since she was old enough to notice such things. She had whispered her confession to Penda in a dark hut late at night. Qulanda could still remember the fear she felt preparing to say such sinful things—it was akin to the fear she was now feeling readying a similar speech for Link and Duena. Penda had understood, and what happened after that confession was more than Qulanda had ever dreamed possible.

She could only hope that Link and Duena would be half as understanding as Penda. In case they weren't, Qulanda had already prepared herself to leave them tonight and return to Visola.

Near twilight, Link called for them to stop for the day and they fell into the usual routine of setting up camp. Duena collected firewood for the evening and started a fire. Link unloaded the horses and bedded them down for the night. Qulanda used some of their saved sandray to flavor a simple broth and put it in the fire to start boiling. After fixing that, she gathered up their waterskins and quickly headed down to the river.

There, in the dim light of the dying day, she knelt on the bank and stared at her rippling reflection. She fingered the charm around her neck. Her hands were shaking with fear of what she was about to do. A pit formed in her gut and she wished that she did not have to confess.

When she was younger, before that night in the Vless village with Penda, she used to wish that she were different. That nature hadn't burdened her with the yoke of these...feelings. All her life, Qulanda had only wanted to be normal. Penda had made her see that the problem was not inside her, but in the views of others. It was with that eye opening thought that Qulanda began questioning the ways of Visola. Penda had already seen the error of forcing the children to support the town, of course. Between the two of them, Penda was always the stronger, smarter one.

Clenching her hands into fists and drawing every ounce of strength Penda had given her, Qulanda pushed to her feet and returned to the campsite.

"Hey, Qulanda." Link was sitting by the fire, stirring the soup. "I was beginning to worry that you'd fallen in the drink."

"I was concerned also," Duena said. "We would not travel much further without you as our guide."

In that moment, Qulanda felt like crying.

Link's smile died and he came to his feet. "Is everything all right?"

Qulanda didn't trust her voice so she just nodded and deposited the waterskins with the horses' tacks.

"Okay then." Link didn't sound convinced. "I could use your help with the soup if you're able."

Qulanda sat on a small rock across from him and dug through her pack for jars of spices. 'I'm sorry, Penda,' she thought. 'I'm just not as strong as you are.'

She found the jars she needed and began adding pinches of spice to the broth. Before long it was bubbling fiercely and Duena had joined them with a bowl full of rocks.

"Any better than the others?" Link asked the Goron.

Duena shook her head. "These rocks taste the same as the stones on the other side of the Werth River."

"You can pour some of our soup over them if you'd like. I bet even rocks would taste good with a little gravy."

"I do not think so, Knight."

Link wrapped the sleeve of his cloak around his hand and removed the pot from the fire. He stirred the soup and said, "It's ready if you'd like a bowl, Qulanda."

She looked up at him and again clenched her hands. "Could I say something before we eat?" she asked

Link and Duena exchanged a glance. "Of course," he said.

Qulanda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. "I have not been completely honest with either of you," she said. "About the real reason the people of Visola wanted me to leave. I have not told you about the blasphemy I committed against their ways."

Her mouth was dry and she suddenly wished she hadn't placed the waterskins so far away. "What I told you about exploring the wasteland with a friend from childhood was true, however. Penda was my age and more comfortable in her skin than I could ever hope to be in mine.

"The reason the people of Visola hate me is because I fell in love—"

"That is not a—" Duena cut in.

"—with Penda," Qulanda finished.

For a long moment the popping and hissing of the fire was the only sound in the campsite.

"Oh," Link said at last.

Duena shook her head in confusion. "You mean as one might love a brother or sister?" she asked.

"No." Qulanda's voice was barely above a whisper.

Link opened his mouth but Duena spoke first, "That is not right. Why would you love someone that you could not produce offspring with?"

Qulanda felt like curling into a ball and shutting out the world.

"Stop it, Duena," Link said quietly.

"You understand?" the Goron asked. "How could your people conceive of such a thing? And for what is its purpose? Mating is for the sole purpose of continuing one's bloodline. I do not understand such a thing."

"Well, I do," Link said. He glanced at Qulanda before continuing. "Sometimes one finds that he or she has no control over the person that captivates them. In the moment, with that person, you can no longer remember why you shouldn't feel the things you are feeling. Why a future together could possibly be harmful...Am I right, Qulanda?"

The fire in front of her was a blur to her eyes, but Qulanda managed to hold the tears back. She smiled distantly. "When Penda smiled at me, I couldn't remember my own name. When she touched me, I couldn't remember the world. Her presence alone was enough to assure me that I would be safe with her."

Link nodded knowingly. "She sailed down the Werth, didn't she?"

"Yes," Qulanda said with a sigh. "I wanted to stay in Visola, but Penda insisted that once we had enough money, we could move deeper in the wasteland where no one would judge us.

"She wrote me every week, but"—her voice caught—"stopped after mentioning pirate raids on some of the shipping boats down by Cape Town. She said she was going to help the sailors that were being harmed by the pirates. I never heard from her again."

"That's why you asked me about pirates on the Hyrulian Sea," Link said.

She nodded. "Yes."

Link moved around the campfire and crouched next to Qulanda. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her in a friendly embrace. "I'm very sorry for that, Qulanda," he said. "Know that I won't judge you. You are who you are and that doesn't change my opinion of you as a friend."

"I still do not understand such feelings for a fellow female," Duena said, "but my estimate of you as a person has not changed."

Qulanda laughed and lost her fight to hold back the tears.

* * *

The dawn of the next day found Zelda high above the ground on one of the upper levels of the Tower of Magic. A messenger from Lajos had arrived very early and requested that she meet the wizard on the fifth level sun balcony.

The balcony was a wide platform that stretched around the entire Tower. Pillars of smooth marble encircled the stage and ran all the way up to the curvature of the sixth floor, forming a beautiful stone balustrade. Etched into the hard floor of the sun deck were spells of protection and good will.

Beyond the railing was the most impressive view of Calatia Zelda had seen in a long time. She was standing on the west end of the stage and was unable to see the sun, but could see long fingers of red-gold light running alongside the giant shadow cast by the edifice around her. From her vantage point so high above the ground, Zelda could see patches of frost that had formed overnight in the deep valleys between hills.

Gusts of wind rushed in from the north and blew her hair and pushed her elaborate silk dress firm against her legs. Zelda shivered and pulled her shawl tighter. The familiar taste of magic tickled the back of her throat and she knew that the wind had nothing to do with her chill.

Zelda turned and saw a witch standing near one of the archways leading deeper into the Tower. The witch, shorter than Zelda by more than a head, wore a textured dirndl of muted reds in place of the Tower's brown standard. Earrings hung down past her shoulders and jingled slightly with the breeze, and bangles of many sizes covered her arms from wrist to elbow. Faint lines marked her face and gave the raven headed witch character, but offered little clue to her actual age.

"Princess Zelda?" she asked.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

The witch took a step forward and smiled. "I am Nami Terico," she said. "Could I ask you some questions about your country?"

Zelda blinked in surprise. "I'm meeting Wizard Britno in a few minutes," she said.

"Later, perhaps?" Nami asked. "You see, I am writing a paper on ancient Hylian customs, mainly on the roll your Knights of the Triforce played in history.

"I understand you know the last Knight. What is he like? Have you ever seen him use his power to kill?"

A buzz suddenly filled Zelda's head and an ache formed behind her eyes. She stumbled back a step toward the marble balusters; the air of magic around Nami suddenly became more intense.

"Why did the Knights die?" Nami asked, following Zelda. "How and why did they use the Triforce? Tell me, Princess Zelda!" Her final words caught the wind and filled Zelda's ears with an echo. A strong desire to tell this witch whatever she wanted to know gripped Zelda.

The princess struggled to form an answer. She clutched at the marble railing, running her fingers down the smooth stone. She grappled with her body for control. The warmth of the Triforce within her suddenly flared and freed her to draw a breath and use it to scream: "Irbe!"

A shadow detached itself from behind Nami and rushed toward the witch. She raised her hands to channel magic but Irbe was already there. The tall guard grabbed Nami from behind without slowing and carried her effortlessly to the edge of the balcony. Her cry of surprise abruptly stopped when Irbe slammed her midsection into the railing.

Nami's lungs emptied of air with a huff. Irbe gathered the waist of her dress and boosted her farther up the railing. With one big hand on her neck and the other on her waist, he held her above the five-story drop to the ground.

"Stop whatever you're doing to her!" he commanded. "Don't and I swear I'll send you down."

"I'm fine, Captain!" Zelda said, still gripping the railing. She shook off the remains of whatever spell the witch had cast over her and pushed away from the balcony's edge. "Bring her back in."

Irbe looked from Nami to Zelda. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. Stop that now; we are guests here."

"Yes, you are," Lajos Britno said from the same archway Nami had walked from. He appeared rather amused by the spectacle in front of him.

Irbe dragged Nami away from the edge, set her down on the balcony, and shoved her toward Lajos. "Your witch here just tried to assassinate the Princess!"

Lajos stepped aside and let Nami recover her footing without aid. "What did I tell you about disturbing our visitors, Enchantress?" he asked.

"I was not trying to harm her," Nami said, straightening her dirndl. "I just cast a simple charm so I could better research my paper."

"Well, that is understandable." Lajos held up a hand to stay Irbe's outburst. "Since you enjoy researching so much, I would like you to present the Council with a three hundred page report by the end of the week detailing enchanting spells that are illegal to cast on unsuspecting non-magics and why."

Nami's eyes widened. "But my experiments," she said. "They need my constant attention. I cannot be away for even a day!"

Lajos gave a smooth smile at her dismay. "Then you should get started."

"Yes, Wizard Britno." Nami bowed and started toward the archway.

"Enchantress?" he said.

She turned. "Yes?"

Lajos cast out his hand and sent a blast of magic at her. The ball of energy hit the small woman square in the chest and knocked her back a step. Zelda gasped at the suddenness and brutality of the attack.

"Apologize to Princess Zelda," Lajos said, his voice holding an unnatural echo.

Nami, wide-eyed with shock, dropped to her knees and held out her hands in supplication. "Please forgive me, Princess Zelda!" Her voice strained as though speaking against her will. "I shall do anything you ask. Please command me!"

Sickened, Zelda looked at Lajos.

"She will, too," he said proudly. "Until her gift for enchantment can untangle my spell, that is."

"Go finish your report," Zelda told the witch.

"Yes, Princess! Thank you, Princess!" Nami scrambled to her feet and fled the deck as fast as possible.

"Was that really necessary?" Zelda asked once the witch was gone.

"The children must learn," Lajos said. "Sacrifice discipline at the cost of bad behavior, Highness." He turned and gestured farther down the sun deck. "Walk with me please."

Zelda gave Irbe a nod and fell in step with Lajos. The wind failed to touch the wizard's robes or hair, she noticed as they walked. Magic had some less obvious advantages apparently. "You were going to tell me about the attempted recovery of Horate's stolen memoirs...?"

"The tragic attempted recovery," he amended. "The book was thrown into a fire and burned."

Lajos considered the landscape beyond the railing as they walked. "Sorcerer Horate studied many cultures that the Ruling Council had long since dismissed as far beneath our standards of spell casting. Country Wizards, some of my colleagues call them. Horate believed that he had rediscovered a series of spells from those people that, when properly cast, would make the caster the ultimate benefactor of the land. He or she can kill with a thought, divert rivers, call up storms, and in turn draws all the magic life produces into his- or her-self."

"Sorcerer Hewitt mentioned something about that," Zelda said. "As did Schuyler."

"Did she?" Another false smile flashed. "I will have to remind her about Tower policy then."

"Do you believe Horate did indeed discovered a spell that could do all of that?"

"I did not believe when I was picked to be part of the wizard squad," Lajos answered. "But after the duel I witnessed in that monastery, yes, I believe a wizard, if he is strong enough, could cast such a spell."

"Schuyler also said that trainees stole the book," Zelda said. "How did they learn of this newly discovered power and then take the book?"

"One of the students," Lajos explained, "was gifted with an understanding of magical lore. He also had somewhat of a fixation on the legacy of Necromancer Thanos. This student, Duncan Azar, gathered a following and—"

"Duncan _Azar_?!" Zelda stopped and grabbed Lajos' arm. "The student that stole the book was named Duncan?" She suddenly remembered the wizened figure of Nara Azar and the winking out in Calbor that sent her on this journey for truth. If Nara and Duncan shared the same surname...

"That's right," Lajos said. "You know of him?"

"I think I met him three years ago," Zelda said. "I also think he is now in possession of the Eye of Thanos."

Lajos shook his head. "You are mistaken, Princess," he said. "Duncan is dead."

"You're lying," Zelda said, no longer willing to play diplomat. "I want the truth, wizard. This is more important than you might believe; if the same Duncan that stole the memoirs of Horate stole the Eye of Thanos, then we could all be in danger."

Lajos Britno stopped and regarded her with a narrow gaze. She could feel power radiating from him and wondered for a moment if he intended to cast aside his vows and strike her. Between Irbe and the Triforce within her, she felt sorry for him if he tried.

"Duncan Azar might as well be dead," Lajos finally bit out. "The Ruling Council saw to it that he was severely punished for his indiscretion—even with what Ossie tried to do for him."

"And his cohorts?"

"They are dead. I watched them all die."

Zelda shook her head in confusion. "Why did you say Duncan was dead?"

"Because that was the Ruling Council's decision," Lajos said. "_I_ saw what happened in that monastery, but the Council declared that he died along with his cohorts. Though he walked from this place forty years ago, he is as dead to me as those students we buried underneath the rubble of the monastery.

"I admire your dedication to this, Highness," he continued. "However, there is nothing more to be uncovered. I seriously doubt a blind, old student of the Tower could have managed to uncover an item such as the Eye of Thanos. Full wizards have tried to find that mythical object, and if they could not acquire it, a _non-magic_ would never find it. Return to your land; if anything more should arise, I shall inform you personally."

Zelda sighed and regarded the wizard in front of her for a long moment. He had closed the subject with that final sentence and would offer no more help. "Perhaps you're right," she said resignedly.

He gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Of course I am. The Council appreciates you bringing our attention to this possible theft. We shall give it all the attention it deserves. Is there anything else I can help you with, Princess?"

"No," Zelda said. "Thank you for your time, Wizard Britno."

He bowed and turned away. "Safe travel home, Princess Zelda."

Irbe, standing several paces behind Zelda, waited until Lajos was gone then walked to the princess. "What do you think of that, Highness?" he asked.

Zelda turned to her guard. "I think I've just been dismissed," she said.

* * *

"I want opinions from all of you," Zelda said later in Impa's rented room. "Where do we go from here?"

After returning to her suite at the Tower and finding a freshly copied map of the Wasteland of Canor with Thanos' palace carefully marked and a note with Keiran's regards, Zelda withdrew from the Tower, telling her hosts that she would indeed return to Hyrule. In reality, she didn't know where she was going next. She had all the information she'd been looking for plus additional information on Duncan and his possible motive for stealing the Eye of Thanos, and now had to get that information to Link.

"Are you asking for a vote?" Irbe asked in surprise.

Zelda shook her head. "The final decision will be mine," she said. "But I want to hear all your opinions and thoughts before I decide."

They had all clustered together in Impa's tiny room. Irbe stood near the closed door with his shoulders hunched so his head wouldn't brush the ceiling, Glenn had taken up position near the window to keep an eye on the street below, while Impa and Zelda sat on the narrow bed.

"In that case, Your Highness," Irbe said, "I think we should go back to Hyrule."

"Why?"

"First, we don't have the men or equipment to protect you for such a long trip." He counted the reasons on his fingers. "Second, we don't even know where the Knight of the Triforce is. How would you meet up with him?"

Zelda gestured to the folded map between her and Impa. "We know where he's going," she said. "Once I deliver the exact location of Thanos' palace to Link, we'll know his course and can alter ours accordingly."

"Wait just a minute," Glenn said. "How are ya goin' to get the map to Link _before_ we meet him?"

Zelda stole a glance at Impa before answering. "I can reach Link by using a dream spell," she said quickly. "I'll copy the location of the palace for him and then end the spell."

"No!" Impa came to her feet. "Absolutely not. You will not do such a thing, Zelda. I forbid it!"

Glenn and Irbe exchanged an unsure glance. "Should we make sure the common room is secure?" the general asked.

Zelda did not remove her gaze from Impa. "No, Glenn. I asked for opinions and that's what I'm entertaining now. Reasons, Impa?"

A look of doubt flashed in the Sheikah's eyes. "Dream spells are highly illegal, Princess," she said in a more moderate tone. "Not to mention unethical when cast upon unsuspecting people. You have no right to invade Link's privacy that way."

"I know Link a little better than you do, Impa," Zelda said. "I think he would allow for a slight invasion of privacy to have this map." She tapped the folded paper for emphasize. "Plus, Link and I have had that sort of contact in the past and he didn't seem to mind then."

Impa's brow turned downward in a frown. "You have? When?"

"When we were much younger," Zelda said. "Link was in the desert, he had just injured his arm by touching the boundary of a portal to the Dark World, and I felt his pain and reached out to him."

Impa opened her mouth to speak, but had nothing to say in response to that confession. Irbe and Glenn were looking decidedly uncomfortable now.

Zelda turned to the general. "What about you, Glenn? Any thoughts?"

"I'd rather have ya behind the walls of the castle," he said, "but I'll follow wherever ya decide. If I was Link, I'd want that map...and for ya to be safe."

"What about journeying into Canor?" Zelda asked. "Can we do it?"

"Aye," Glenn said. Irbe sighed and shook his head. "With that map we wouldn't have no trouble navigatin', and between the four o' us and our mounts, we could carry enough supplies to take us in and maintain us."

"Thank you, General Tarmag." Zelda looked to Irbe. "Captain, go down to the market square and purchase a Swyn Potion. The vender will probably try to sell you blue colored water, so don't settle for anything that doesn't have a rince vine floating in its cauldron. And don't believe a seller that says he doesn't carry that kind; it's a very common potion."

"Yes, Highness." The tall captain bowed.

"Glenn," Zelda continued, "start gathering supplies for an extended trip."

"Does that mean ya've already decided?"

Zelda shook her head. "I'll know for certain after I have contacted Link. He may not welcome me and forbid me to join him. You have your assignments. Dismissed."

"No," Impa said suddenly, halting the two officers from leaving. "I won't let you do this, Zelda! You are not thinking rationally. What about your duties to Hyrule?"

"Chancellor Deverell has my full confidence in controlling the day to day activities of the palace," Zelda said. "And I'll send him notice if I decide to enter Canor. I don't see the conflict."

"That's right," Impa said. "You don't see. You don't see the danger you are placing yourself in by taking Link as a lover! I am trying to maintain the correct path for Hyrule, and you have been fighting me every step of the way."

They all stood in complete silence for several long moments. Glenn and Irbe had paused in mid stride and now seemed unsure about continuing to the door. Zelda forced her gaze to lighten and turned to the two officers. "Fulfill your errands and report back in an hour," she told them.

Grateful for the chance to get out of that tiny room, Glenn and Irbe managed to maintain their dignity as they hurried out to the hall. Zelda slowly walked after them, stopped in the entranceway, and pushed the door shut. "We are going to have the conversation that we should have had a month ago, Impa."

Princess and Sheikah regarded one another.

"I never knew my mother," Zelda began. "Because of that, you took that roll in my life. I love you very much, Impa. I allow you more rope than I even give Link because of my feelings toward you.

"But you are now close to hanging yourself with that rope."

Impa glanced down. "I am sorry, Princess," she said softly. "I didn't mean to berate you in front of members of your staff."

"I don't care about that," Zelda said. "I don't care how you feel about Link or about my feelings for him—I acknowledge you have a right to your opinion no matter how different it is from mine."

"Then will you—"

"I only ask that you treat me the same way," Zelda continued unfazed by the interruption. "Since I was very little you have shown me the respect of one adult to another. Even when I didn't deserve it, you never wavered. Why now? Why over this?"

Impa took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. "The prophecy that told of you and Link defeating the Si'Ra ended in a three-way fork. You died down one path; Link died down the second; and while you both lived down the third, his life would turn toward a path of sins. After making a wrong decision, death, loneliness, and the shadow of darkness will rule his days.

"There's more," she added, cutting off Zelda's reply. "With this dark destiny, a new world order will rise and forever change the landscape of the world. Thousands will give their blood to the land. Spell casters will cut across the world, killing even members of their own kind that refuse to stand with them. And the Ruling Council of the Tower of Magic will split.

"At the heart of all this is the lone Knight of the Triforce. He is the key to it all.

"Before he left Hyrule, Link told me that he believed the choice had already been offered and he chose wrong. I have been trying to protect you from that fate, Zelda. He will pull you into that darkness if you pursue this—Link even knows that to be true! He told me so!"

Zelda shook her head and several chuckles escaped her throat. "Is that what this has all been about? Prophecies and notations of the future?"

"The same prophecies that speak of the path of sins also told of the Si'Ra returning," Impa pointed out. "They are not easy things to dismiss."

"No," Zelda admitted. "But they are not promises, Impa—you know that. I refuse to believe Link would ever lead a 'new world order.' And how could one choice lead to a war of magic? The Ruling Council would never, _never_ break to side with a Knight of the Triforce."

"I don't care if it's plausible or not! I will not let you anywhere near that sort of danger! I risked your life by sending you back to Hyrule to face Jarod," Impa said, the pain of that decision finally breaking through her mask. "I will not neglect my watch this time. Never again."

Zelda smiled sadly and walked to Impa. She enveloped her former nanny in a hug. "Oh, my old friend. It's not your place to decide that; I have to make my own choices and decisions. For good or ill, they are mine to make."

"But there are things to consider..."

Zelda shook her head. "For all we know, this, right here, could be the choice. When will this war happen? A year from now? Two? Ten? I'm not going to live my life jumping at shadows, Impa. I understand your concern, but I refuse to be a slave to a prophet's vision."

Impa sniffed against the princess' shoulder. "Sounds like you have been around Link too long," she said, returning the embrace.

"He'll do that to a person," Zelda agreed

They stayed like that for several moments before Impa pulled back. She held her former charge at an easy distance. The outrage was gone from her eyes but the concern remained.

"Honestly, child," she said, "can't you select someone safer than the last Knight of the Triforce? Fate dances a happy jig around that boy. Half of the population are men after all—just find another."

"Safer than the man that has offered his life in exchange for mine countless times? His greatest nightmare is choosing between Hyrule and me—and three years ago he proved that he would side with me. Who is safer than that?"

"Your father would not have approved," Impa said without force. She was running out of arguments.

"Harkinian would have wanted me to be happy," Zelda said. "You know that as well as I."

Impa snorted. "You're probably right. He always did have a fondness for the Knights of the Triforce."

Zelda smiled but sobered quickly. "Please understand this, Impa. I want your support, but I don't need it. I shall go wherever I must to make this choice. And I shall do it with or without you behind me."

Impa nodded and finally conceded the fight. "I only wish you would stop this before Link ensnares you in his destiny."

Zelda stared unblinkingly at her onetime nanny for a long moment. "I'm afraid, my old friend, that he already has."


	23. Chapter Twenty

****

Chapter Twenty

The Master Sword came free with the terrible sound of sharpened steel against well-tooled leather. Link was spinning before his brain fully registered the disturbance behind him.

Moonlight reflected off the flawless blade sending fractions of light all about the barren area of the group's campsite. His gaze caught the surprised face of his stalker in one of those fractions and he halted his attack.

In the space of only a heartbeat he had drawn the sword, spun about, and had the edge of the Master Sword at the shadowy figure's neck.

"Light!" Qulanda cursed, holding her hands out in an open gesture. "You're speedy with that thing."

Link gave her a look and sheathed his sword. "What are you doing out here, Qulanda? Your watch doesn't begin for hours yet." They were standing several strides from the warm glow of the campfire. Duena had woken him for the second watch only a quarter of an hour ago. Much of the night was still before them.

The dark clad woman gestured to a nearby log half buried in the grayish blue sand. "Could we sit, please?"

Link nodded and led her to the log. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Qulanda answered. "I couldn't sleep and thought you might like to talk."

"About anything in particular?"

"I...wanted to thank you for earlier," she said. "For being so kind."

He shook his head. "It's just the way I feel."

"About that..." She smiled self-consciously. "While I was blubbering on your shoulder earlier, it, ah, struck me that you really did understand what I was saying. The way you talked to Duena seemed..."

"Close to home?" he provided.

"Yeah." Qulanda glanced down and then met his gaze. "Care to tell me her name?"

"It's a long, complex story, Qulanda."

"Well, I've got the time," she said. "We're in the middle of nowhere with hours to go before dawn."

Link ran a hand back through his hair. "Zelda."

"You love her?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"You have chosen her as a mate?"

"No, I cannot. I am the last Knight of the Triforce and would destroy her future."

She frowned slightly. "I don't understand."

"I possess magic, Qulanda," Link said. "Magic that would pass to my offspring. I've seen the errors that can come from this magic, and I know that no one should have to face the prospects of misusing it."

"So you have decided to never have children?" Qulanda sounded shocked by the very idea.

Link clasped his hands around his knees and drew them to his chin. "That's right. I am the last of my kind."

Qulanda laughed bitterly. "Such ignorance," she said.

Link felt a flash of anger. "You have no idea what I have seen. If you had, you would not so easily laugh."

"I'm sorry, Link." Qulanda was quiet for a full minute. Finally, she said, "Would you listen to a tactful, impartial view of your decision?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"I think you're being stupid."

Link drew back in surprise and smiled. "What's the blunt version of that? You kick me while saying it?"

"It's true," she said, untouched by his attempt at humor. "You have willingly given something up that I was denied by nature. I was lucky enough to find someone to love that loved me back only to have her ripped from me, too.

"And you have given both of those things up! Not only that, but you have adopted a gallant belief that you are saving your children from having to make hard decisions by robbing them of a chance at living."

"Prophecies have been written about me," Link said staring into the night. "About my kind. There is no way I could prepare a child for that. The magic cannot be cast aside, so I have given up that part of my future."

Qulanda studied his profile in the darkness. "Here's a little advice from someone familiar with the path you are insisting on walking: It's okay to be selfish."

"What? How am I being selfish?"

"That's just it," Qulanda said, "you're not. That is why you have left this Zelda behind to sit on a log in the middle of nowhere. The wish for children is always a selfish one. Oh sure, the love comes quick enough, but the initial desire is a selfish one. To want children is to want a part of you to live on in the future. _You_. To follow in your steps and solve the problems you could not.

"I haven't known you long, Link, but you strike me as someone unaccustomed to doing things strictly for yourself. That's okay, but it is also okay to _want_ something for yourself—it's okay to want a woman and to want children with her."

Link shook his head. "I don't believe you. That all sounds much too cynical to me."

She sighed and continued, "Answer something for me. Do you suppose your parents, knowing that you might be the last Knight, worried about your future?"

"Of course they did," Link said. "All parents worry—though mine did have greater cause."

"Then why did they lay together? If the magic is so dangerous in the hands of the untrained, then why didn't they deny fate and go their separate ways?"

"I don't have an answer for that."

"Yes, you do. If Zelda means anything to you, then you have the answer." Qulanda leaned in close as though revealing a secret. "Allow yourself to be selfish once in a while, Link. It won't be the end of the world if you drop your vigilance for a moment. If the people can take care of themselves like you have told me, why are you trying to save everyone?

"Take it from a friend, you're running hard and if you don't stop soon for a rest, you are going to fall. Allow yourself time, Link, even if it is only a moment."

Link thought for a long while. "I don't know," he said. "About any of it. Lately I seem to be saying that more than I ever have before."

"Welcome to the world, Link. When I was little, and my feelings and thoughts confused me beyond words, I believed that when I was older I would have all the answers. I thought that there was a magical age when one officially enters adulthood and all the answers suddenly become clear.

"If there's a magical age, I haven't hit it yet. I just have to manage my way through the best I can. Please don't be a martyr, Link—I like you too much to stand by and let you do something so stupid."

Link laughed lightly and nodded. "You know, it doesn't make much sense for us both to be awake. Why don't you head back to camp and get some sleep before your watch?"

"Actually, I was going to say that you should go back and rest," Qulanda said. "I'm still wide awake from all I went through earlier; there's no way I'm going to get much sleep tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just don't make it a habit. Go enjoy yourself."

* * *

Irbe returned to the Best of the Fold Inn after nightfall with an unadorned flask in his hand. Glenn, standing watch near the door came to attention and reached for his sword when the door opened, but relaxed once he saw the captain walk in.

"Sir." He nodded. "Highness, I found the potion you sent me for. There were a lot of vendors claiming to have better potions than Swyn, but I bought only what you asked for."

Zelda glanced up from the map provided by the Tower. "Very good, Captain. Leave it on the table."

Impa stepped forward and took the flask from Irbe. She unscrewed the top, sniffed the potion, and drew back sharply. She blinked tears away and quickly recapped the flask. "That is the correct potion, all right," she said hoarsely.

Glenn made a face. "I can smell that over here," he said. "It's like old boots and rotten eggs."

"An accurate guess, Glenn," Zelda said, checking the map again. "That's about what the witches put in there."

"What's it do?" he asked.

"It opens the mind to magic," Impa said. "Non-magics use it to draw simple spells, but often one with the gift for magic, that is not trained in magic, will use it to draw even more power into themselves.

"Those sellers probably thought you were an amateur spell caster, Irbe. Welcome to the brotherhood."

The captain shifted uneasily. "Is it dangerous?" he asked.

Impa glanced at the flask and shook her head. "Not in this small amount. Too much, however, and the mind forgets the limits of magic upon the body. I've seen amateur wizards actually cast themselves to death."

Zelda folded the map and pushed to her feet. "Don't worry him, Impa." She picked up a letter sealed with a wax impression of the broach she wore the other day. "This is for Chancellor Deverell," she said, handing it to Irbe. "Send it while I'm asleep. It explains that we may not return for some time yet."

Irbe inclined his head in a slight bow. "Yes, Your Highness."

Zelda compressed her lips into a narrow line and regarded the odd assortment of soldiers she had gathered. "I know you all have reservations about possibly entering the Wasteland of Canor, and, of my casting this spell. I also know that you will stand with me despite those reservations. I appreciate that and recognize all of your concerns."

Glenn drew himself up tall. "We're with ya, Zelda."

Zelda nodded and smiled at him. "This potion will put me to sleep for several hours," she said. "If Link is not asleep when I reach for him, I will have to wait in the area of dreams until he is. I may not wake until well into tomorrow."

"The inn will be completely secure," Irbe said, reading her unspoken question.

"Thank you, Captain." Zelda clapped her hands together, finalizing the gathering. "That will be all."

The three people that had pledged each in their own way to protect her and uphold the monarchy slowly filed out of the room. Irbe left first, followed closely by Glenn, but Impa held back several paces.

"Be careful, child," the Sheikah said. "With the spell and all that will come from it. You may not believe it, but destiny beckons."

"I'm always careful," Zelda said, remembering how she and Link used to throw that phrase back and forth. It was their own private joke for times when they were about to face something difficult and didn't have the words to say what they really felt.

Impa let free a deeply held breath and followed the two soldiers from the room. The door closed with an almost inaudible click.

And then Zelda was alone.

Standing there in a tiny room on the third floor of the Best of the Fold Inn, Zelda felt free of the duties of the crown and nervous to again see Link. Months had passed since she tasted his unresponsive lips and he whispered his cryptic good-bye. Had this time away convinced him to accept the magic of his birthright, or just driven him deeper into the belief of letting the Knights die with him?

"This is absurd," she said. Never before had she been nervous to see Link. The air of authority and confidence that always followed him had never failed to push away any fear she felt, even in the darkest of times.

Zelda turned on her heel and walked to the bed. She reached back and began undoing the buttons running up the spine of her dress. It took her five minutes of struggling to unfasten enough buttons to push the dress down to her waist. "I'm beginning to have a new appreciation of maids," she muttered, folding the dress and placing it over the foot of the bed.

Clad only in a thin shift, Zelda gave a shiver. It was late summer but already the weather was beginning to cool. It was going to be another long winter. She pushed back the coverlet on the bed and climbed underneath the sheets.

Zelda glanced at the flask sitting beside the bed and sighed. She opened the top, held her nose with one hand, and downed the potion in several long gulps. For as bad as it smelled, it tasted even worse.

She turned her head away from the flask and struggled to keep her stomach from rejecting the potion. Several deep breaths later, her stomach decided to unhappily accept the vile liquid.

She placed the flask back on the night table, blew out the lamp, and lay back against the lumpy mattress. The potion worked fast; after only minutes she could feel her mental shields begin to weaken and the flow of magic from the Triforce increase.

As she had done weeks ago on the road to Calatia, Zelda thought back to the time when she was a child and Link's pain had cried out to her. She saw the geometrical design of the spell she had used and began following the curvature of each symbol with her mind's eye.

Slowly, the darkness in the room began to deepen. The shadows seemed to twist and move closer to her. Sleep pushed insistently against her eyelids.

Zelda's body was relaxing even as her mind fought to remember all the forms of the spell. Struggling to remain awake, she completed the forms and turned her thoughts to Link. She made him the center of the spell, forcing the forms to bend around his shape.

He was her last thought when sleep finally won and she plunged into the abyss of unawareness.

* * *

She floated in darkness. For what seemed like days, she had no shape or existence beyond simple thought.

'Is the world shaped by our thoughts, or are our thoughts shaped by the world?' she wondered, recalling hours spent in her youth arguing logic with some of the best minds in Hyrule, her teachers.

It was a struggle to remember where she was and why she was here. Swyn was a mild intoxicant and that combined with the strange existence of dreamscape made it hard to focus on anything.

Had she hands, she would have clenched them in frustration. Focus on Link! Focus on the reason for contacting him! With a show of great will power, Zelda began moving through dreamscape.

The whisper of millions of dreams echoed in her thoughts, but she ignored all of them and sought only one voice. After an indeterminable amount of time searching, she began to worry that Link had not yet gone to sleep and was not here. It occurred to her that she had no idea what sort of situation he was in now; if he were in danger, she could be searching for days. Had she already been searching for days?

Panic threatened to cloud her focus and force her to begin searching again from the beginning.

The tempo of the dream-whispers never varied, but suddenly a single voice rose above all others. A voice of command that, even in dreamscape, drew others to it like a bright flame in a dark room. Link's voice.

Relieved, Zelda moved toward him at the speed of thought. Knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about loss of focus again, she took control of his dream...

* * *

Zelda was standing on a mountaintop overlooking the world. On one side, mountainous terrain stretched for several miles before finally giving way to expansive grassland. On the other side, mountainous terrain stretched farther out and then abruptly ended in grayish blue sand. The barren wasteland continued as far as her eyes could see—miles and miles of desolation that seemed to be the antitheses of life. She felt as though she stood on the border to the underworld.

The rock she was standing on was smooth and cool underneath her bare feet. Flecks of glasslike prisms in the granite caught and reflected the colorless light that bathed the world around her. It was neither day nor night; the sky was cloudless, pale, and there was no sun. Though Zelda was clad only in a thin shift, the breeze that gently played with her hem did not feel cold.

Zelda finished taking in the strange reality she now found herself in and turned to face the man she knew was watching her. Link stood at the opposite end of the rock formation, clad in dark trousers and a brown tunic. His clothes were dusty, his hair longer than she remembered, and she could see several bruises marring his hands and face, but just the sight of him was enough to rob her of breath.

His hard, blue eyes warmed with a smile and he took a step forward. "Zelda." He stopped suddenly, his smile fading. "I'm dreaming."

Zelda nodded. "Yes, but so am I. When two people dream the same dream—"

"They meet," he finished the sentence she had spoken to him so long ago. "How? Why?"

She shrugged self-consciously. "You told me to find a way to contact you when I had information. I have some."

Link walked to the center of their shared rock and sat down. "Tell me everything," he said.

Zelda followed his example and sat next to him. The rock was surprisingly comfortable underneath her. She became aware of just how revealing her shift was and felt her face warm. Link had seen a lot more three years ago when an arrow pierced her shoulder and he helped treat her, Zelda reminded herself. Somehow that thought didn't help ease her embarrassment.

"Tell me everything that has happened since I left," Link said, meeting and holding her gaze.

She did. She told him about the trip to the Sheikah library, meeting Schuyler Britno, deciding to go to the Tower of Magic, and all the information she discovered there. She told him about Duncan's past, about Thanos, and the history of Canor.

Link sat and listened patiently, reacting in surprise to some of the things but not daring to interrupt her line of thought. When she was finished, he responded in kind and told her about his adventures since leaving Hyrule Castle. He repeated many of the things he wrote in the letter she had read hundreds of times, but Zelda listened without interruption as well. She raised her eyebrows in shock at his description of the Boonja and told him that she'd never before heard of such a thing.

He also described some of the more lighthearted things that had happened. He told her of Duena pulling entire trees apart so they would have enough firewood for the night, and about Qulanda exasperatingly trying to educate him on the safe and unsafe fauna of the wasteland.

Zelda was glad he had Duena and Qulanda to keep him company while traveling Canor.

"I can draw a map of Canor for you," she said when he was finished. "I memorized the one Necromancer Hewitt gave me and I now know the location of Thanos' palace." She moved to start drawing in the dusting of sand covering the rock, but Link caught her wrist and gently held it. Her hand felt small and soft in his big, callused hand.

"That can wait," he said. "Thank you, Zelda. You are truly the greatest leader Hyrule has ever known."

Zelda blinked. "Go to the Hall of Heroes the next time you are in Hyrule Castle and you shall see rulers far greater than I," she said.

Link's blue-eyed gaze didn't waver from hers. "You pursued this and obtained more than I could have hoped."

"I had a good reason," she said. "You asked."

Silence stretched between them. Link was still holding her hand and Zelda felt at once relaxed and uncomfortable.

"Do you ever think about your parents?" he asked suddenly. "About the choices they made."

"King Harkinian? Of course I do. He's in my thoughts every time I sit in the throne room."

"No. I mean what they must have gone through when they realized you were the one mentioned in the prophecies." Link paused for a moment. "Do you think they second guessed their decisions?"

"Oh. Well, Harkinian faced a lot of misunderstanding when I was little," Zelda said. "He knew that his death was foretold, that Hyrule would fall into darkness, and that I would be the one to challenge the Gerudo King. With that knowledge, he did his best to make sure I was prepared for my destiny. He had to make a lot of hard, controversial decisions regarding my future. He knew, however, that his vindication would come from historians. I cannot imagine, though, that it was at any time easy."

Link nodded. "I've been thinking about my parents tonight."

Such an admission caught Zelda off guard. Link rarely talked to her about his mother and father, or about the heritage they left for him to carry on alone.

"Harkinian may not have realized right away that you were the prophesied one," Link continued. "But at my birth, there were few Knights of the Triforce left in the world. Each pregnancy, people had to wonder if that baby was going to be the foretold last.

"How did they do it?"

"I don't know," Zelda answered honestly. "In difficult times, the best and worst comes out in people. Your parents had to fight that fear and allow their best to emerge. If it's any consolation, I think they would be proud of all that you've done."

He smiled thinly. "I'm not even proud of _all_ that I've done, princess. I have made a lot of mistakes."

"I'm sure they did, too—just as Harkinian did. No one is perfect, Link. Heroes sometimes fail and villains sometimes win. It is in those times that we need to shake off the loss and carry on the best we can.

"During the rebellion against Ganondorf, I watched a lot of people die. He would send squads of soldiers into towns to gather people up and torture them until the Sheikah leading the rebellion turned themselves over to him.

"What was I to do? Surrender and destroy what little chance I had to free Hyrule? Some hated me for not turning myself over. They believed that Ganon would show mercy to those that did not side against him.

"They were wrong and paid the price for that error. I was right but still paid the price. I couldn't stop...I could not stop because then he would have won by default."

Link took in her words. "There used to be councils and committees to decide on the best usage of the Triforce," he said. "Now there is just me...and I can't do it alone."

Zelda put a hand on his bristly cheek and turned his face toward her. "Then why are you trying?

"For fifteen years you and I have been comrades in arms, servants of fate, and friends. Why is it so hard for you to now accept me as more?"

Link was silent for a long moment.

"I wouldn't push if I knew you didn't feel the same way," she said. "But I know what you feel. I see it in your eyes, even now, and have felt it in your touch."

"This is the big show, Zelda," Link said. "Center stage and for real. One misuse of the Triforce, one lapse in judgement, and the whole thing falls apart. Endtime."

Zelda leaned in close. "When have you and I ever played for less?"

Link considered that and finally laughed softly. "On that, I cannot argue." He sobered suddenly. "So what's next for us?"

"Whatever you want," she answered. "The offer has always been there for you."

The wind no longer whistled around them. It felt as though the world had come to a rest. Leaning forward and completing the journey she had started, he pressed his lips to hers. His touch was hesitant as first, too many memories to overcome, but gradually became more bold.

They kissed heatedly. The fact that this place was another face of dreamscape and they were really leagues apart no longer mattered.

Link's hand released hers and began a slow journey up her arm. His fingers tickled the sensitive skin where her shoulder and upper arm met. He traced her collarbone and then slid the strap of her shift out of the way.

Zelda opened her eyes and glanced at her uncovered shoulder before meeting his gaze. A small round scar marred her skin just above her breast. "A reminder of the escape from the castle," she said with a slight shrug. "Without the red healing potion, it would have been much worse."

Link nodded and untied the laces of his tunic. He parted the shirt to show several scars of his own. "Comrades in arms," he reminded her.

She nodded with understanding.

Unaffected by her flaws, Link leaned down and gave her scar a suckling kiss. Zelda hissed through clenched teeth at the feel of his warm mouth against her cool skin.

He gently pushed her down. Zelda went willingly and wrapped her legs around his. Lost in dreamscape, high above the dividing line between life and the underworld, Link and Zelda were one.


	24. Interlude Three

****

Interlude Three

__

Forty years before...

Duncan Azar hung before the Ruling Council of the Tower of Magic.

Suspended several feet off the ground by invisible hands, Duncan's back was rod straight, his arms firm against his sides, and his boots pointed slightly downward as though reaching for the ground that was frustratingly out of reach.

He hung, held securely in place by more spells than he could count, in the ruling chamber located on the top floor of the Tower. Behind him were the two apprentices that had been his constant shadows since Sorcerer Ossie brought him back for judgement. Normally the apprentices rotated shifts but today they were both in attendance for his hearing.

They were a formality of course. Every wizard and apprentice in the Tower looked at him with unhidden aversion and none of them would help him escape. In their eyes, he had committed a crime second only to murder. But then, four people had died because of his treason so there wasn't much difference.

The only exception to the open hatred was from Ossie. The necromancer had taken a long route returning the Tower, taking a straight path through the mountainous terrain of north Calatia instead of going around and slipping through Merchant's Pass. At first, the long route had confused Duncan, but then Tower politics caught up with him. The guilds rotated the presidency of the Ruling Council, and its two votes to break the natural tie, every month. Ossie's timing was perfect and arrived just as his enclave was set to take charge of the Council.

"It isn't much," Ossie had confessed to him as they approached the Tower, "but it is a small amount of influence I can use to help you." It was a mystery to Duncan why the head of the enclave he had stolen from wanted to help him. As comical as it seemed, Necromancer Ossie was his only friend at the Tower.

Before Duncan, sitting on a raised dais, was the body of the Council. A long, half-moon table with seats for each guild of the Tower. Starting at Duncan's left was the Healer Guild, distinguishable by their dark blue robes; next was the Summoner Guild, standard brown for them; Conjurer Guild; Alteration Guild; Enchanter Guild, clad entirely in green; and finally the Necromancer Guild, living wraiths in black.

There was a seventh seat that represented a guild no longer recognized by the Tower: the Prophet Guild. No one apparently had wanted to perform the terrible and final act of removing what had once been an official seat from the council room so there it had stayed. Duncan, like every Tower student, had heard the rumors about the disappearance of the enigmatic Ezekal Homes, last of the great prophets. Some said he was even a member of the First Order, the most powerful rank a wizard or witch could rise to. Many believed Ezekal foresaw the end of the Tower and fled to save himself; others thought the Council had cast him out for what his visions predicted. Foolish rumors, Duncan had always thought about the subject.

"Duncan Azar," Ossie intoned. His voice echoing in the natural acoustics of the large dark chamber. "You are charged with theft of Tower property, illegal spell casting that resulted in the deaths of three students and one wizard, and destruction of Tower property. How do you plead?"

Duncan swallowed hard. He had always felt the weight of his wrong doings, but hearing all the charges listed made them seem much heavier. "Guilty," he said.

Several of the wizards at the large table looked disappointed. They were doubtlessly hoping for a long trial to drag in evidence and witnesses and pound his guilt like nails in a coffin.

"You understand that means you give up all chance of a defense and resign yourself to our judgment?" Ossie asked. His voice was emotionless and offered no support to Duncan.

Duncan pushed against the spells that held him, proving a point. "I never had a choice anyway," he said. "Give me your ruling."

"Well," Henit Kline, Alterer of the Third Order, said with a smile. "In that case, I cast my vote for the maximum penalty: death."

"Here, here!" George Ajonet, Conjurer of the Second Order, added.

"You can't do that!" the Councilwoman from the Healer Guild, Lizzi Stoph, interjected. "Duncan Azar has offered himself to the mercy of the Council. I think that should receive notice! He does not deserve death."

"He committed treason against the Tower," Kline snapped. "He and his cohorts undermined our authority, made us into fools in front of our students, and took the life of one of our members."

George Ajonet nodded in agreement of that.

"By Sorcerer Ossie's own report it was the shade of Thanos that killed Baron—not Duncan. We cannot punish him for the crimes of another."

"Plus," the head of the Summoners' enclave, Ulraunt Vi'Topi, added, "Thanos admitted to drawing Duncan and his followers to that monastery for the purpose of expanding his grip on power."

Ajonet and the Summoner locked gazes. "So just what are you suggesting?"

"I call for all charges to be dropped."

Both sides of the long table erupted in arguments at that statement. Duncan glanced up in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone—not even Ossie—to call for a full dismissal. From the shape of the arguments, however, it didn't look like that resolution was going to win. Even Healer Stoph thought he should receive some sort of punishment.

Sitting calmly in the eye of the storm was Ossie. He sat relaxed in his seat with his elbows on the arms of the chair, hands together, and fingers interlaced underneath his chin. He blinked slowly and finally seemed to reach a conclusion about something.

"Order," he commanded softly. Power rippled through that word and brought all of the arguing to a sudden halt. Duncan even flinched at the feel of such magic. It wasn't an enchantment—it wouldn't have worked on the head of the Enchanter Guild—just raw magical power.

Ossie slowly turned in his seat to look at Ajonet. "I don't think my report on the events of the monastery can be called into question," he said evenly. "Thanos was there."

Duncan moved his gaze from Ossie to the head of the Conjurers' enclave. He hadn't heard that accusation.

"Then you agree with Ulraunt? You think the charges should be dropped?"

Duncan's hopes lifted. Of all the members of the Council, Ossie had the most power and influence to put forward such a vote and win.

"No," Ossie said and Duncan's hopes sank all the way to the necromancers' enclave. "Duncan Azar disregarded our teachings long before he placed himself under Thanos' influence. Thanos did not force him to steal Horate's memoirs, flee the Tower, or stand against my squad at the monastery. In those instances, Duncan had complete free will. He chose a path and now must walk it."

"Then what do you propose?" Lizzi did not sound happy at looking to the resident necromancer for stability.

Ossie's dark gaze touched each council member before coming to a rest on Duncan. "A compromise between the two decisions."

"Well, that is characteristically vague," Kline snapped. "You propose a happy medium between execution and setting him free. How brilliant! Would you care to expand on that idea or should we just adjourn for the day?"

"Sarcasm is a poor man's weapon, Henit."

"Shut up, Lizzi."

Duncan shook his head. Children were deciding his fate. How had the Ruling Council stood for so long without ever breaking if it was so argumentative?

"I have found a 'happy medium' between life and death," Ossie continued, undisturbed. "I propose robbing Duncan Azar of his gift. Harm the soul but do not touch the body. I believe that would satisfy both Healer Stoph's moral objections and Conjurer Ajonet's need for vengeance."

For a long moment, the Council was silent. The members looked in confusion from one to the other.

"Ah, Necromancer," Ulraunt said, "even joined together we don't have the power to sever one from his or her magical gift. It has been tried the past and it always results in the death of the subject."

Ossie nodded. "The gift of magic cannot be removed or blocked," he said. "However, Duncan's gift is one of magical _understanding_. Simply put, Duncan can see magic. I propose we take that ability away from him."

Duncan's skin felt hot. He didn't like that idea at all. It was somehow more comforting to think death was the worse penalty they could inflict on him. There were, he now knew, fates far worse than death. And his one friend on the Ruling Council was trying to sentence him to one. He again struggled against his bonds for freedom. Fear gripped the back of his throat.

Ossie turned to his right. "Can such a spell be cast safely, Witch Stoph?"

"Y-yes," she stammered. "It's a simple blinding spell."

"And Wizard Ajonet," Ossie continued, "given a choice, would you rather lose your gift of magic or die?"

Ajonet flexed his hands in an unconscious reminder of his ability to channel magic. "I would rather die," he said.

"Does that answer your cry for vengeance?"

"Yes. And more."

"Then I call for an open vote." Ossie slowly raised his hand.

The Summoner and Enchanter Guilds voted for Duncan, but the combination of the Alterer, Healer, Conjurer, and Necromancer Guilds overruled them.

"No!" Duncan fought against spells he could never begin to pick apart. "I thought you were going to show mercy, Ossie! I didn't have any choice. I had to destroy the book!" He twisted and turned like a dying animal caught in a hunter's trap. "You promised me mercy!"

"And I have shown it," Ossie calmly replied. "In time, you shall see the value of my having spared your life. Fate is not yet finished with you, Duncan Azar."

Duncan wailed in anguish and was finally still. He hung defeated before the wizards he had betrayed.

"Well, that's done with." Kline moved to stand.

"Sit down," Ossie said. "This assembly is still in session."

Kline sank back into his seat. "Then call for dismissal and let us all return to our students."

"First, I propose sending at least one wizard squad into the Wasteland of Canor."

Arguing broke out again between the council members. Duncan only half listened.

"This assembly was called into session to determine the fate of Duncan Azar," Stoph said. "You can't bring another issue to the table at the end of a special session."

"You would rather I bring it up during an open session?" Ossie asked. "For the rest of our students to learn what happened at the monastery? Do you think the knowledge of the Eye of Thanos should become common?"

"The Eye of Thanos is a myth," Ajonet said. "Don't waste our time, Ossie."

Ossie drew a deep breath. "Thanos is still alive and I think that warrants our investigation."

"You described the Thanos you faced as little more than a shade," Stoph pointed out. "That is hardly 'alive.'"

"But he still lives. In one form or another, it doesn't matter. Even the most powerful wizard recorded by the Tower never lived past two thousand. I contend that Thanos could have preserved himself, or at least part of his spirit, in such a creation as the Eye of Thanos. If so, we must find it and destroy it."

Laughter rippled through the council room. "You believe someone of Thanos' weak skill managed to undercut death itself?" Kline applauded mockingly. "That is a reach even for you, Ossie."

Darkness clouded Ossie's face. "Thanos was strong enough to kill Sorcerer Horate," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't think this is a laughing matter."

"Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy has always been the Tower's greatest joke," Ulraunt said. "Our own bogeyman living in the closet of the past. If part of him still lives in some other side of reality, I say goodwill to him. May he outlive us all."

"Is that a curse or an invocation?"

"With all respect," Stoph began, "what happened between Thanos and Horate was a long time ago. We did not live through that time and have only rumors to tell us what happened."

Ossie came to his feet. "Is this what our masters wished when they taught us to respect history? 'We are the servants of all that has gone before and keepers of what is to come.'"

"History," Kline said, "not legends." He stood beside Ossie. "A vote to decide whether the Wasteland of Canor is worth our time."

Ossie's was the only hand that rose.

The head of the necromancers sank back into his chair. "This session of the Ruling Council is adjourned," he said softly. "May the Light forgive all of you."

The members of the Council filed out of the room and then the apprentices stepped forward for Duncan. He dropped to the ground and the apprentices ushered him from the chamber.

Duncan stopped in the entranceway and glanced over his shoulder. He saw Ossie alone at the table, looking thoughtfully at the empty seat of the Prophet Ezekal Homes. The man, Duncan would learn much later in his life, that wrote the prophecy dealing with the path of sins.

* * *

Duncan did not have a good night. The apprentices had taken him to a bare room normally used for non-magical students, bound him there with magic, and left. He wandered about the room, testing the limits of the spell keeping him in the room, and inspecting every crack in the stone walls.

In the quiet of the Tower of Magic, Duncan did a lot of thinking. He thought about his crime, all that had happened at the monastery, and about his family. "Sweet Light," he breathed as realization struck. "Nara."

The weight of all that he had done pressed him to his knees. "I'm sorry, Nara," he sobbed. "I should have done things differently."

Duncan had trouble drawing enough air into his lungs. The room seemed to spin around him. How had it come to this? What had he done to his family?

In the year he had spent running from wizard squads and planning with his cohorts, his father and sister had only entered his thoughts a handful of times. 'What do they think of me now?' he wondered.

What had the Tower told them? Did they think he was still running, or did they know Ossie had captured him? Questions without answers pounded in Duncan's brain.

Deep in the night, when he had run out of strength to cry, animalistic fear took hold of Duncan. He jumped to his feet and ran for the door. He felt like a caged animal and instinct pushed him to escape.

When the spell caught him several strides from the door, Duncan's gift came to his aid and he began dispelling the magic. He could see all the flows and currents that had been harnessed to tie the spell. One strand at a time, the spell began to unwind.

The apprentices suddenly appeared in the doorway. Before Duncan could turn his gift away from the spell to them, they held out their hands and channeled magic.

Two blasts hit Duncan in the chest and threw him across the room. He hit the wall hard and dark spots danced in his vision. He wanted to climb to his feet and twist the binding spell around those apprentices. He wanted to cut through the Tower like an Assassin of Magic and hurt those who meant him harm. He wanted to do all those things, but his body would no longer respond to his commands.

The blackness that had been teasing the edge of his vision increased and Duncan slid down, unconscious. Duncan's escape attempt had cost him his remaining hours of sight.

* * *

A cure spell shot through him minutes before dawn and woke Duncan. He gasped and struggled to keep up with a world that seemed to be moving much too quickly. Hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him up.

The corridors of the Tower of Magic passed by out of his peripheral vision. Duncan hung in a strong grip and didn't notice any of the sights. He heard people whispering his name as he passed, but didn't pay close enough attention to make out words.

They climbed stairs and the next thing Duncan knew he was on one of the sun decks. Ossie was waiting for him, looking like a part of dusk in his black ceremonial robes.

The master wizard pushed back the cowl of his robe and regarded Duncan's escorts. "That will be all," he said. "Leave us."

"We were instructed to stay with him at all times," one of the apprentices said. "We must witness the punishment."

Duncan shivered as magic passed over him. "You doubt my ability to hold him?" Ossie asked coldly. The darkness around the necromancer seemed to deepen. "Leave us." An echo caught those words and the apprentices quickly backed away, bowing with each step.

Duncan flexed his hands and rubbed the spots on his arms where the escorts had grabbed him. "I wish I could do that," he said humorlessly. "I somehow knew it would be you that carried out my sentence."

Ossie tipped his head and smiled slightly. "You would rather have Wizard Kline?"

"I would rather be let go."

"You did commit a crime, Duncan. Should I have just overlooked that?"

"I was influenced by Thanos!"

Ossie shook his head. "Not here. You were in full control of your faculties while in the Tower."

"How do you know?" Strength was returning to Duncan and his anger at Ossie pushed away all fear.

"Because I know this place," Ossie responded cryptically. "I know how to influence and even destroy the individual mind. It cannot be done here or in the presence of a large group of wizards."

"You promised me mercy!" Duncan took a threatening step forward. "I had your word."

"The Council would have voted to execute you. My way gives you life; how is that not mercy?"

"Do you want to see me suffer that much? You are going to take away my gift!"

Ossie gave him a condescending smile. "You have much to learn, Duncan Azar. I deeply regret that you could never have been my student. However, there are those that could teach you the same as I—with less aptitude, of course."

Some of Duncan's anger abated and confusion replaced it. "What?"

"Fate is not through with you, Duncan Azar. There are things on the horizon that the Ruling Council has...selected not to see. I feel that you will play a vital role in those events. A _bradwr_ could do much for either side."

"So you kept me alive so I could be your agent?"

Ossie shook his head. "I can only set up the pieces, Duncan; the game is not for me to play. My gift tells me you are critical to what is to come."

The mention of his gift made Duncan's cheek twitch. "Little use I can be once I'm blinded," he said.

"You must learn to listen, _bradwr_. I believe your inattention is your worse flaw—and I do have several to choose from. I told you there are those that would look kindly upon one that had been cast from the Tower."

Duncan's thoughts raced. "You mean Country Wizards? B-but they're outcasts!"

Ossie smiled again and turned away. "Come, Duncan."

Shaking his head at the insanity that swirled around him, Duncan followed the master wizard to the edge of the balcony. Before them stretched the east countryside of Calatia. Dim purple light of predawn lit the hills and valleys of the terrain. Grass swayed back and forth with the touch of a breeze that did not reach the height of the sun deck. The sun was just starting to color the eastern horizon and before long the first rays of orange-yellow light would warm the land. It was the start of a new day.

"This is my gift to you," Ossie said. "This view shall be the last you ever see."

Duncan felt fear at those words, but did not give in to it. "No," he said. "I don't want this gift."

"It's an apology," Ossie said. "Accept it in the spirit it is given."

Duncan shook his head. "Take this gift back and grant me one request in its place."

Ossie thought for a moment. "Very well, as long as your request is reasonable."

"Tell my family—tell everyone—that I am dead. Do that one thing for me, and I will become the _bradwr_ you want. I will fulfill my destiny as the traitor of a traitor. Do we have a deal?"

"Why?" Ossie asked. "Why do you not want your family to know you survived?"

"They will be better off without the burden of taking care of a cripple," Duncan said. "If I'm wrong, the price will be mine to pay."

"To say such things is to invite many sins, Duncan," Ossie warned. "But if that is your wish, then it shall be fulfilled." He extended his hand.

Duncan accepted the proffered hand and shook it. "Your word?"

"My word," the master wizard confirmed. "Good luck, Duncan Azar."

Magic slowly flowed into Duncan from Ossie's hand. Before he could fight it, his body was relaxing and he was falling into a deep sleep. Duncan lazily looked to the landscape beyond the railing, but his vision was already blurring. His last sight before darkness swallowed all was Ossie's face looking at him with concern.

* * *

Time passed with unforgiving force. Months turned to years and Duncan kept his part of the bargain. He struggled for a long time, but eventually began to learn. He sought teachers in the places the Tower of Magic considered worthless. With the passage of time, he learned to again touch his gift through other senses.

Magic, history, myth, and prophecy became his subjects of study. In the wilds, there were no guilds. Power was the dominating force there and Duncan mastered the power of knowledge.

Clad in rags with only the click of the walking stick his sister had given him before he left for the Tower to separate him from the shadows, Duncan became a fixture in Hyrule Castle Town. Time passed and he took a young man on as a student. Chance had nothing to do with their meeting for Duncan knew that young man would one day walk the path of sins—he had foreseen it just as Ezekal Homes had.

With the passage of time, Duncan forgot the rule all teachers must know: that one day the student must take all the knowledge offered and use it to surpass his or her teacher.

The student's time was coming.


	25. Chapter Twenty One

****

Chapter Twenty One

__

Now...

Early morning the next day, Zelda ambled down the staircase to the common room of the Best of the Fold Inn. She lightly traced the banister with her fingertips. Irbe followed several paces behind her with one hand on the haft of his war-ax. Glenn and Impa came to attention when they saw her. Save for the Sheikah and general, the common room was empty.

"Light, Zelda," Impa said. "Are you all right?"

Zelda smiled dreamily. "I haven't felt this good for a long time."

"You must have taken too much Swyn," Impa said. "The amount of magic coming from that room was outstanding—it was a bloody storm!" She peered at the princess. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Zelda held a hand toward the stairs. "Just as I told Captain Irbe, I took the normal amount."

"Link must not have done his part of the spell right," the Sheikah declared. "There should not have been that much energy expended. It is a two-way spell, you know."

Zelda gazed off into space. "Trust me, Link did it right." She smiled again and seemed to pull herself together. "He gave me a message to pass along to you, Impa.

"He said he's sorry he doubted your commitment to your obligations. He knows secrets and lies are tools of protections to you, and that you would never do anything to harm me. And he said that the choice you made was the right one given the circumstances."

Impa paled. "Wonder of wonders. What did you say to him?"

"To come home soon." She closed her eyes for a moment, as though remembering something, then opened them revealing steely commitment. "Until then, however, we will be joining him in Canor."

"Link said that?" Glenn asked incredulously.

"No. He actually told me to return to Hyrule and wait for him to retrieve Duncan from Thanos' palace...I am, therefore, going anyway."

The three guardians shared a glance but Zelda continued before they could voice protest: "Duncan is in Canor; it's where the Eye of Thanos is; and, most importantly, Link is there. He needs me and that's where I am going. There is no more room for doubt. Now"—she clapped her hands—"what's for breakfast?"

* * *

Link rose before the sun. By dawn, when Qulanda was returning from her watch point, he had bathed, shaved, and had a warm breakfast of talrus root porridge cooking over the fire.

"Hey, Qulanda!" Link ran to the guide, grabbed her by the shoulders, and spun her about. "I didn't thank you for the talking to last night. What you said really meant a lot to me—thank you."

Qulanda blinked her bloodshot eyes in surprise. "No problem. Are you okay? You look...different."

"I haven't felt this good in a long time," Link said turning back to the bubbling pot of breakfast. "And I am different: I'm now ready to meet the Vless and then go to Thanos' palace."

"You weren't before? And you said that like you already know where the palace is."

"That's because I do." As he walked to the fire in the center of the campsite, Link jumped on top of a nearby rock and skipped merrily off it. "Eat up, Qulanda, because I want to get an early start!"

Duena sat up and gave Qulanda a curious glance.

The Hylian shrugged. "Someone slept well," she said.

"Who?" Duena asked.

* * *

The unforgiving wind of Canor swept through the empty cobblestone streets of Othin. Fountains that had long since dried up and crumbling statues lining the streets stood like gravemarkers to the civilization that used to occupy the bronze city.

Clad only in a breechcloth, Verr stood in what used to be the market square of the town. Here vendors used to gather and trade goods from all over the known world. She was the only living thing left in Othin now.

The first week after the Si'Frant left was confusing and frightening. Verr had never before been alone and missed hearing the sounds of other living things. By the second week a sense of familiarity had set in. She discovered several edible plants growing in the shaded alleyways between buildings and rat like vermin that proved to be no match for a Si'Frant's hunting prowess.

At the end of the second week, the plants no longer had a good taste and the vermin were suddenly faster than she was. The start of the third week brought the familiar symptoms. Verr had the sickness that had been cutting through the Si'Frant since Jarod was cast down into the underworld.

She was dying.

Now Verr stood in the old market square, feeling the cool stones underneath her bootless feet and the warm sun against her bare skin. It took all her strength just to stand in the square. Breathing was no longer an uncontrolled behavior. If she didn't remember to inhale and exhale at regular intervals, she would suffocate. The need for sleep weighed heavily on her eyelids, but she did not dare sleep for she had seen too many Si'Frant close their eyes and never wake up again.

Her once olive complexion had bleached to a sickly gray. Toned muscles that once flexed underneath firm skin had atrophied. Her breasts hung like shriveled waterskins left to dry in the sun.

Verr stared unblinkingly ahead. She was dressed in only a breechcloth because she no longer wanted the feel of anything made by the Si'Frant against her body.

On the third day of the fourth week, the anger had started.

Si'Frant children were not sheltered from the harsh realities of life. As soon as they were able to stand on their own strength, the training in the dogi began. Weapons training, hand to hand combat, theological training, and teaching about the cruelties of life. Si'Frant children were not allowed to indulge in foolish beliefs and dreams so common in the youths of other cultures.

The Ones Who Follow were battle hardened and scared from an early age so that they were not easily hurt as adults. Lessons of pain, Vox had called the training.

Despite all that preparation, Verr became angry at the unfair fate that had befallen her people. The sickness, the plague, was an act of injustice against an entire species. She raged against the Knight of the Triforce for not helping them; she raged against the Si'Ra for failing to reclaim his rightful place as ruler and god and starting this plague; and she raged against herself. All of her training and she could do nothing to stop this enemy.

She could not fight what was in her blood. She was born Si'Frant, a servant to the community and to the Si'Ra, and could be no more. And yet the Knight and Pav, at the end of his life, had thought differently. What did they know that she did not? What was Pav's final lesson and why didn't he use it to save himself?

Those questions had pulled Verr from the two-room home that she had picked as the place to spend her endtime. Her nature rebelled against dying in bed.

Trembling with exertion and emotion, Verr bent down and retrieved the object she had removed from Pav's possessions. The halberd she now held had a long history. It had once been used by the Si'Ra in their crusade to control the world; later Vox had used it to defend Jarod and attempted to kill the Knight of the Triforce with it; and Link had then passed it on to Pav after setting them free. The long wooden haft of the weapon had a fine balance and felt good in Verr's hands. An ax like blade curved downward from the top of the halberd for almost a foot before once again joining the haft. At the opposite end of the weapon was a metal tip that was useful in disarming an opponent.

Slowly, Verr began twirling the halberd. The spear's razor-sharp blade cut through the air with a musical whistle. The spinning became faster as she relaxed her wrists and let instinct take over.

Verr stepped forward and brought the spear around in a wide arc. The blade flashed in the sunlight. She spun, released the haft with her right hand but maintained her grip with the left, and let the deadly weapon flow smoothly around her body.

Her right hand rejoined the left on the haft and she thrust the halberd's point out toward imaginary foes. Spinning again, Verr brought the halberd in close to better guard her inner defensive zone and lashed out with one, two, three kicks in rapid order.

At first it felt good to move through this familiar dance, but then the sickness ravishing her body began to make itself known. Ache shot through the muscles in her legs as she regained her centered position.

Heedless of the ultimate price, Verr pushed on. She danced through the forms of the blade, alternating between defensive and attacking forms. She jumped, dodged, and struck out at opponents only she could see. Her body cried out in pain, but Verr would not stop. This was how she had chosen to die. She refused to lay in bed and wait for Death to come to her. If he wanted her life, he would have to fight for it.

And then, while landing from a spinning jump kick, she collapsed. Stabbing the blade of the halberd into the cracked mortar between cobblestones, Verr clenched her jaw and said, "No! This is my choice. I had no control over my birth, or what I was raised to believe, but I can choose my manner of death!" Hooking an elbow around the halberd, she pulled herself up.

The pain running through her body increased. Verr gasped at the suddenness of it and slid back down the length of the spear weapon. Animalistic panic gripped the back of her throat and made her skin feel feverish. It was the instinctual knowledge that something was very, very wrong inside the body. Each breath hurt and Verr could feel her heart struggling to keep pumping.

So this was death. Years spent in the dogi had prepared her for this moment. Gathering the last of her strength, Verr tightened her hold on the halberd and said, "I renounce my faith. The Si'Ra were not—" The pain flared and a scream cut off the rest of her pronouncement.

She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut against the searing waves of pain sparking outward from the center of her chest with each beat of her heart. Long strands of spittle dripped from her open mouth and pooled on the old cobblestones.

"The Si'Ra were not gods!" she yelled around the pain. "They were nothing more than wizards!" Hand over hand she pulled herself up the haft of the halberd. "They were sadistic butchers that enslaved millions of people. I honor the people that fell attempting to stop the Si'Ra, and mourn that they were not more successful." Agony twisted her around the pole weapon. A headache pounded behind her eyes. She wondered if it were possible for her eyes to pop out of their sockets from the pressure.

Death had finally come for her. The same dark entity that had claimed more than a thousand Si'Frant, and that struck down her teacher with a mere backhand, had finally arrived. 'Expecting me?' it seemed to sweetly whisper.

Verr pressed her sweaty forehead to the metal spear tip jutting into the air. "Yes," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm ready. Of all I have seen and done, I only regret not renouncing the murdering wizards that had the pompous to declare themselves gods sooner."

Death touched her shoulder then. The hot pain that had seemed unbearable before suddenly tripled in intensity. Verr screamed until her throat was bloody and raw. Her entire body felt like a crystal chandelier hitting a marble floor and shattering into thousands of pieces. All that she was trained to be burned in the flames of her defiance. Time lost all meaning and she hung in the white haze of torment for eons or hours or seconds.

And then it was over.

For a long time, Verr stared into the darkness behind her eyelids. 'Is this death?' she wondered. Her limbs tingled with the aftereffects of enduring such cleansing pain.

Slowly, and half expecting to see fire and brimstone, she opened her eyes. She was on her back, spread eaglelike with the point of the halberd still driven into the mortar beside her left arm. Everything was quiet and undisturbed. It was as though nothing had happened in the old city of Othin this day.

But _something_ had happened, Verr knew. Something was different.

A pang erupted in her stomach and she winced, expecting another round of pain to hit her. No pain came. She was hungry...terribly hungry. Forgetting about the pain and about death, Verr clambered to her feet, fighting vertigo while doing so, and stumbled to the shelter where Pav had spent his final days.

Propped in the room's corner was a tightly cinched travel pack leftover from the exodus of the Si'Frant. Verr fell to her knees before the pack and unceremoniously tore it open. Food and survival supplies spilled out across the old home's floor.

Verr knelt there, clad in only a breechcloth, and ate it all. She even drank an entire waterskin that Gil had stored in one of the pockets of the pack.

Afterward, she blinked lazily and tried to gather her bearings. She had no idea why she was still alive. Hollowness seemed to run through her blood with every heartbeat. It wasn't painful...just different.

Looking down, Verr realized with a sudden start what was different. Her skin tone was slowly returning. The food she had just eaten felt good in her belly, not heavy and ready to be vomited up. And she could feel her muscle strength slowly returning. The illness was gone.

Somehow she had freed herself of it.

"I renounced the Si'Ra," she said softly. Could it really be that simple? Had so many Si'Frant died simply because they refused to renounce their false gods?

Perhaps that was Pav's final lesson. Verr thought back to that night when Pav had come to her while she was sitting watch and told her to worry about herself, not the community. He had implied that he no longer recognized his authority over the Si'Frant, and encouraged her to do the same. Then why had he given her the Mik of Canor?

Verr's mind raced with possibilities. She felt as though she had just awakened from a long sleep and could finally think clearly. Pav had always forced his students to think for themselves, to develop their own interpretations of the holy texts and combat teachings. This was another lesson from him.

"'I am the last of the old,'" Verr quoted her mentor. "'You must be the first of the new. I once thought that was my destiny, but I now see that it was always yours.'"

She understood. She now knew what that hollowness was in her blood: fear. It was the healthy fear of freedom. The bonds of the old ways no longer applied to her, and she could now direct her life however she saw fit. She could commit herself to helping the Si'Frant or abandon them and hope they would come to the way of freedom on their own. She had wanted that choice to be Pav's or Link's, but both knew that path wasn't theirs to walk.

Was it hers?

Verr swallowed hard and climbed to her feet. She walked to the entranceway of the shelter and looked out at the ruins of Othin. She saw the world through the eyes of a newborn. It was a world of unimaginable size, and she was free to do whatever she wanted in it.

She was at once afraid and grateful for that fact.

Reflecting on all that she had learned, on who she had been and who she was now, Verr knew what to do.

Turning back to the shelter, Verr found one of Pav's sand colored robes thrown over the bed and wrapped it around herself. She gathered what survival supplies remained and deposited them back in the travel pack. She took one last look around, concluded that there was nothing else worth the burden of carrying, and left the shelter.

After digging the Mik of Canor up from behind the shelter and slipping it into the pocket of her robe, Verr made quick time through Othin and returned to the empty home she had selected to die in. There she retrieved a belt knife that she tucked into the sash of her robe and slipped on the soft leather boots that had already carried her far.

Shouldering the travel pack, Verr returned to the market square where she had fought death. Othin was quiet as if standing like a silent, all knowing observer. It seemed to watch Verr's every movement and give quiet approval with the echoing breeze that whistled down the empty streets. The wind provided a music that was unique to Othin alone. Verr would miss that music.

In the market square, Verr regarded the halberd still sticking up from the mortar between cobblestones. The weapon was beautiful with its simple yet deadly design. The blade caught the sun's light and shattered it into hundreds of shafts of light that played along the razor-sharp edge. It would be useful to have such a powerful weapon with her—the Si'Ra had imbued all their weapons with magic that made them invulnerable—but Verr also knew the halberd was a symbol of the Si'Ra and the terror the Si'Frant had done in their name.

In one long smooth motion, Verr took three steps forward, grabbed the haft of the halberd, and pulled it free. She twirled the spear about and brought the haft down sharply to meet her knee. The ancient weapon splintered down the center and shattered into two pieces. No magic was invulnerable to the free.

Dropping the broken haft, Verr turned, pulled the hood of her sand colored robe up, and began walking to the outskirts of Othin. Before her lay the Wasteland of Canor, and, somewhere out there, the remains of Fegobvesjarod's Si'Frant.


	26. Chapter Twenty Two

****

Chapter Twenty Two

Days after Link woke in high spirits, the group's fast pace over the wasteland continued. They hugged the banks of the Werth River and traveled steadily west. After a full week of shadowing the Werth, the river started angling southward. The group left the river behind and kept pushing toward the west.

Qulanda led the party everyday wondering if the Vless would stop them before she could reach their village. She had no idea if the Vless would still welcome her as a friend, or if she now carried the designation of outsider. More than ever, Qulanda wished she had Penda at her side.

* * *

At the beginning of their third week out from the Werth River, Qulanda disappeared into the brush for a few moments and surprised Link and Duena when she reemerged. She had changed from her dusty trousers and tunic into a dress. It was dark green with a conservative neckline and parts down the sides for riding.

Link gave a low whistle from atop Epona and gestured for her to turn around. Qulanda gave a shy smile and complied. The hem of her dress rose as she spun revealing the tops of her travel worn boots.

"For a Hylian," Duena said, "you look quite lovely."

"Thank you, Duena," Qulanda said, storing her travel pack behind Avin's saddle. "I think."

"What's the occasion?" Link asked. "Is there one?"

Qulanda glanced down before answering. "We will encounter the Vless soon. It is important that I do all the talking when we meet them. I have been with them before, and I believe they will welcome me again."

"Believe?" Duena asked.

"They are a peaceful people," Qulanda said, "but they do have powerful magic. They have remained untouched by the wilds of Canor by using that magic to keep unwanted people away."

Link slid to the ground beside the guide. "How long do you think before we encounter them?"

"A scouting party has been shadowing us on and off for the past two days," Qulanda said. "I suspect they will contact us today."

Link nodded and shared a glance with Duena. "Lead the way, then," he told the guide.

They continued their trek through the Wasteland of Canor. The empty husks of trees that had been a familiar sight since they left Visola and entered the wasteland weeks earlier slowly became farther in between. The occasional stump even appeared, then more stubs and even fewer trees. And then they were no longer in the forest of death.

Link took a long glance about and saw that they stood on the perimeter of a wide oval shaped clearing. The edge of the dead forest circled around the clearing for several miles in either direction. Even though the trees were long dead and offered little protection, Link suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. It was the sense that came from the knowledge that he was now standing on someone else's home ground. This clearing without doubt belonged to the Vless—he could feel it.

Qulanda paused only for a heartbeat and then resumed walking. Link gathered Epona's reins and followed his guide. Duena covered the rear position with Avin walking beside her. The black and white mare had grown much more comfortable in the party since that first day in Visola. Link suspected Epona's forceful personality had more than a little to do with Avin's change.

"I feel as though we are being watched," Duena said.

Link nodded his agreement. "I feel the same way, my friend. Stick close."

Qulanda didn't reply or even show signs of having heard the exchange. She doubled her pace and pulled ahead of Link and Duena. Link let her, knowing that this was her show now and he could do nothing to help for the time being.

Dark shapes on the horizon slowly resolved themselves into squat huts made from grayish blue mud bricks. Thatch canopies served as roofs for the buildings that looked the oldest, and clay tiles made of the same tempered grayish blue mud roofed the newer constructions.

Walking past the first line of huts, Link saw the Vless. They were a short people, the tallest rising only to his elbow. They were bipedal and covered in soft tan fur. They tipped their large heads, twitched the two fan-shaped ears on the tops of their heads, and blinked almond shaped eyes at the group as they walked by.

Female Vless—Link assumed them to be female—drew tiny children with wide-eyed, innocent expressions close to them as Link and Duena made eye contact. All Vless stopped whatever they had been doing to stare at the newcomers. Several pointed at the Master Sword and jabbered in a tongue foreign to Link's ears.

"They recognize your sword," Duena whispered to him.

"I noticed that," Link replied in the same tone. "It's either a very good thing or a very bad thing. In my experience, there's never an in between."

"I am hoping for the former rather than the latter."

Link turned forward again to speak to Qulanda, but found that she had moved even farther ahead. Two Vless stood in her path further up the main street. The oldest wore an ornamental headdress with the skin of some native animal cascading down the back and reaching the Vless' knees. The chieftain, Link assumed.

"Qulanda_, eti bante cwy_?" the head Vless asked in his native language.

"_Na'vet_," Qulanda responded without hesitation. "_Seev ni, _Duena_, gi _Goron.Link_, gi _Knight of the Triforce."

At Link's title, several Vless gasped and began chattering amongst themselves. One small child, about seven years at best, ran from the crowd and touched Link's hand.

The Knight smiled down at the little Vless. "Hi," he said.

The child uttered a sharp chirp and scampered back to her mother.

"I'm really hoping this means the former," Link whispered to Duena.

She could only nod in reply.

"Knight of the Triforce," the chieftain muttered. "_Erit'in_."

Qulanda glanced at Link as though seeing him for the first time, and then said to the head Vless, "_Ci toba_."

The chieftain cocked his head to the side and narrowed his almond eyes slightly. "_Eti bante cwy_, Penda?"

Qulanda took longer to respond this time. "_Erit'ra_," she finally said. "_So vente ywent den otato. Bonta ty uteata qata, ci ven toba_."

"Are you catching any of this, Duena?" Link asked.

"I am not familiar with this dialect."

"Perfect."

The chieftain touched Qulanda's shoulder and said something in a low, musical voice.

"_Dobata_," Qulanda said softly.

The chieftain turned his attention to Link and shuffled forward. He jabbered a long sentence and waited for a reply.

Link looked to Qulanda for a translation.

"He has made a request that you attend a _sacoz_ being held in our honor in the village tonight," she said.

"What's a _sacoz_?"

"It's a"—Qulanda struggled for the right Hylian word—"banquet of sorts where the elders honor and bless hunters or tribal champions before they leave on a dangerous campaign."

Link glanced at the chieftain still waiting for an answer. All the Vless gathered around the group also seemed to be listening closely. "It's being held for us?" he asked. "Why? When did they begin planning it?"

Qulanda asked and then listened to the reply. "Apparently, from the moment the scouts spotted us two days ago."

"Do you know why they reacted so to my title?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I've never received that sort of reaction from them before," she said. "I don't know how they could have heard of the Knights of the Triforce—or even the Triforce—this far north.

"Ah, Stne is still waiting for your answer. And, as your guide, Link, I recommend accepting the _sacoz_."

Link nodded and spread his arms wide. "Well, we wouldn't want to offend them."

Qulanda communicated their acceptance to the tribe and a round of cheers went up from the crowd.

More children rushed up and began touching Link and Duena with soft furry hands. He smiled at them and Duena gave Qulanda a worried glance. The guide could only shrug in confusion.

The chieftain, with most of the Vless keeping a close shadow, led Qulanda, Link, and Duena across the village to an empty hut with a thatched roof. Two young females entered with bowls of porridge that smelled suspiciously like the bark on the dead trees in the wasteland.

"This is our hut while we stay in the ancestral home of the Vless," Qulanda translated for Stne. "We may eat or rest at our convenience. The _sacoz_ shall commence tonight at sunset."

"Thank him for us," Link said, sniffing the porridge and fighting a grimace. "They certainly are accommodating, aren't they?"

"Stne has requested I walk with him and talk," Qulanda said. "Will you two be all right if I accept?"

"Sure." Link tried to hand the bowl back to the female, but she wouldn't take it from him. "Hurry back though."

Qulanda gave him a smile and followed the leader of the Vless out of the hut.

* * *

Qulanda fingered the charm around her neck as she walked beside Stne. Heavy clouds had moved in from the north and a cold wind was blowing. The air was thick with the possibility of rain. Stne quietly led her away from the communal areas of the village to the narrower, windowless huts used for elder business.

"Years have you been gone," Stne said in Vlessian. "Now you return bearing this sad news and with a Knight of the Triforce in tow. You do have a skill for upsetting an old heart, Qulanda."

Qulanda smiled sadly. "I would not have chosen to return here at all," she said honestly. "I did not wish to face the memories of Penda this village holds for me. Link wanted to come here, and I am his guide to command."

"Are the memories here bad ones?"

Qulanda looked to the dark, backlit clouds on the horizon, forcing tears away. "Not bad; just painful."

"Your heart is deeply troubled, child," Stne said, genuinely sorry. "I hope you will find peace and contentment in your travels."

"I don't know about contentment," Qulanda answered, "but I shall one day have peace."

"The first step in obtaining a goal is deciding upon one. I wish you luck, child." Stne paused then and looked out at the bustling village. "Much is happening in Canor. Things are now reaching fruition that before were only riddles of prophecy handed down from long ago.

"Forgive me for blaming my worries on your arrival. You are but an innocent player in the game of fate. You walk the same path as the Knights of the Triforce and should be honored for that."

Qulanda released the charm and pulled her cloak tighter against the wind. "How is it you know of Link? He has never been this far into the wasteland before."

"I do not know the name Link," Stne answered. "But his title carries much weight with the Vless. My people have never forgotten what his kind did for us during the Great Magic War.

"All will be explained at the sacoz tonight."

Qulanda was surprised to suddenly find wetness on her cheeks. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and looked at the glittering moisture. "I can't stand this," she said. "All my life, I hardly ever cried. Now, without the strongest woman I've ever known, that seems to be all I can do."

Stne touched her shoulder. Immediately she felt warm magic slowly spread through her body. She closed her eyes and instinctively relaxed into the elder Vless' touch. Behind her eyelids images of Penda danced.

Qulanda suddenly saw herself, years younger, whispering into the darkness and stillness of the Vless village a fervid confession of feelings that filled her with shame. She saw Penda, with intellect that seemed to dare the world to make the first move shining in her eyes, not reacting with disgust but with love.

Memories of what they shared that night brought even more pain and tears, but something else too: sweet comfort. More images came, with less lucidity, and continued that feeling. She remembered what she had, not just what she'd lost.

Qulanda opened her eyes to find herself on her knees with Stne's arms around her. She felt lighter, more clear headed. "Thank you for that," she whispered.

"It is not wrong to feel sadness," Stne said. "We all cry at times, child. And while it may seem to you now that you can do nothing but cry, I have seen the opposite to be true. You are a competent guide and friend, and I know your path shall lead you to Penda again someday.

"Remember that pain is like a flower. It will bloom in its own time, capture your attention, and eventually die and leave you behind when it blows away as dust."

Qulanda bowed her head and the charm around her neck hung down as she did so. The metal P swayed and twisted about, catching the filtered light of an overcast day.

* * *

Link found that after a time he could spot subtle differences in the Vless. Eye color, small facial differences, and he noticed that the fur of the older ones was a slightly lighter shade than that of the younger tribe members.

As he, Duena, and Qulanda made their way through the village, all the Vless still seemed to watch him as though he were a fairy story given life. Their escorts kept most Vless at a distance of several paces, but occasionally one would make it close enough to touch his tunic or baldric. They seemed especially fascinated by the stubble on his cheeks.

Torches dipped in fragrant oils were set around the small village square. Long wooden tables stood about the square on knob like legs that only lifted them eight inches off the ground.

Bonfires burned brightly as Vless fed large piles of chopped wood to them. A group of nine Vless stood near the longest table playing primitive musical instruments. Drums provided a steady, low beat and Vless blowing into hollowed out ivory tubes strapped on their chests added an irregular but faster cadence. Dancers wearing numerous baubles and colored bangles in their fur circled the bonfires and tables. The square smelled strongly of merriment, wine, fire, and roasting meat.

A female Vless noticed the group approaching and rushed to them. She produced three necklaces of well-polished stones strung together and placed one around each neck. Duena had to bend in half for the Vless to reach her neck, and even then the little female had to give a jump to get the necklace over the crown of the Goron's head.

Link gave an easy smile. "I think they like you, Duena."

"I find this all to be quite...interesting," Duena said.

"That is the word for it."

The tempo of the music increased as Qulanda led the group through clusters of already seated Vless to a large table where Stne was waiting for them. She sat on the ground to his left and gestured for Link to sit on his right. Duena looked at the table, and the lack of free space, for a long moment. "Perhaps I should—"

The rest of her words were lost in the frantic jabbering of the seated Vless. They seemed to reach some sort of decision and all that were sitting across from Stne shuffled downward until there was a wide opening for her to sit in.

"I told you they liked you," Link called over the beating of drums, but he didn't think she heard him.

Duena stepped over the table in one stride and lowered herself to her knees. She still towered over the table, however, and had to sink even further down. With a thump that shook the pottery on all the tables, Duena flopped on her belly and rolled onto her side.

Stne clapped his hands and servers bearing trays of food immediately flooded out of the nearby huts. Two male Vless—youngsters by the dark coloration of their fur—carried the ends of a spit over their shoulders. Hanging from the spit was the roasted side of what Link could only guess was some sort of boar.

"A sandhog," Qulanda provided. "They're mainly found in the northern reaches of the Werth Valley, and can be used for just about anything. The yellowish liquid the children are drinking is its milk, their knifes and instruments are from the bones, and its flesh is good for eating."

"Smells good," Link yelled back, still trying to speak over the continuing music.

"The ribs are the best, most tender parts."

"Thank them for us," he said.

Qulanda nodded. "I already did. Stne wants to speak with us, but he insists we dine first."

Servers cut long strips of meat from the hog and dished them out to the crowd. Stne and Link were served first. Both accepted their plates gratefully. In absence of knowing proper Vlessian etiquette, Link kept his gaze on Stne for cues. The social training Zelda insisted he endure as a child finally proved useful.

The music paused and everyone leaned forward to watch the head table. Stne picked his strip of meat up and took a large bite. "_Renti_!" he declared around eating.

Link expected that to start the feast, but everyone continued to stare. He dropped his gaze to the strip of hog still on his plate and understood. There were no utensils so Link lifted the meat with his fingers. He took a larger bite than what Stne had, chewed, and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "_Renti_!"

That was the magic word. A cheer went up from those sitting and those serving and the music started again.

Over the next couple of hours, the Vless paraded all sorts of food out for their honored guests. They served strips of pork; soups made from the boar's cooked entrails; fruits that Qulanda said they grew underground like potatoes; an assortment of greens and roots native to Canor; and wine made by the Vless. They even managed to procure rocks for Duena that she said, "Tastes like the food at home."

After weeks of living on dried sandray, Link gladly devoured all food served to him. He ate his fill and drank until lazy warmth wrapped his body and clouded his head. The meal passed quickly and the music combined with the constant jumble of Vlessian added to the disconnected feeling of contentment Link felt. He could see by the relaxed look in the eyes of his companions that they felt it, too. It was a struggle to remember his purpose here in Canor, and to remember the importance of finding the Eye of Thanos before anyone else.

Once the servers removed all the plates and scraps, Stne pushed to his feet and gestured for all the others seated to do the same. Both slightly tipsy, Link and Qulanda had to hang onto one another as they stood. The music faded and the musicians cleared away their instruments.

Duena tried to stand but ended up rolling on her exoskeleton. Jabbering heatedly, Vless raced forward to help her, but they weren't strong enough to budge her.

"It's okay," Link said as he and Qulanda stepped over the table to help their friend. "We've done this before." Together they took Duena's arms and pulled while she pushed. The Goron was able to get her legs firmly planted and finally pushed herself up.

Link stumbled slightly and pressed the palm of his hand to his temple. "I wish I hadn't had that last cup of wine," he said.

"It wouldn't have mattered," Qulanda said to him. "It's in the food and just being around the Vless that does it. It's their magic we're feeling."

"Magic. Perfect."

"The effects will be gone tomorrow," she said. "Enjoy the euphoria tonight."

"I'll remind you of those words when the headache sets in."

Quick and efficiently, three groups of five Vless rushed through the town square and slid all the tables aside. The villagers moved forward and took up positions in front of those tables, creating a wide space with Link, Qulanda, Duena, and Stne in the center.

Link turned in a slow circle, taking in the sudden shift around them. "We're not dessert, are we?"

Qulanda smiled. "This is a blessing ceremony for travelers leaving the village. The last time Penda and I were here, we witnessed several new hunters receive their blessings. I never dreamed _I_ would one day be blessed though."

"_Krni_," Stne said.

"Kneel," Qulanda translated, dropping to her knees.

Link watched Duena to see if she experienced trouble going down, then followed suit. He suddenly felt a twinge of nervousness. The importance and far reaching tradition of this ceremony was palpable.

Stne stood before them for a long moment, looking from one traveler to the next. He began speaking finally and Qulanda provided translation for him. "Many years have I served as _majado_ to the Vless people, and never did I believe that in my time I would encounter a Knight of the Triforce.

"Knight—Link—you cannot know the importance of your kind to the Vless people. Lifetimes ago, before the name Canor was first spoken, when awareness of the races that inhabit the world was still new, a dark force rose. It gathered strength and swept across this part of the world like a storm.

"It was terrible, seemingly unstoppable. Tribes and young kingdoms fell before it with equal ease. A race of wizards known as the Black Souls headed this storm. Their name was a curse upon the lips of the people—the Si'Ra!

"The Vless were next to fall before these wizards, but an army of only a thousand men appeared headed by several Knights of the Triforce. They had not known of us—they only discovered us while scouting the forces of the Si'Ra."

Stne paused and the village was dead quiet. All the Vless hung on his next word. Link even leaned forward, intrigued. He knew precious little about the old days of the Knights, and any story that offered insights to their ways fascinated him.

"The Knights knew that we had no defense against the approaching Si'Ra forces, and, though the army commanders wanted to abandon us, the Knights refused to leave. They convinced all one thousand of their troops to remain as well.

"The battle was fierce and many Knights of the Triforce died, many of their troops died, but an even greater number of the dark forces died. The Si'Ra were repulsed." Several younger members of the crowd applauded before their parents could quiet them. "We saw the heavy toll suffered by the Knights and their followers on our behalf," Stne continued, "and we promised them our eternal fidelity.

"Knight—Link—it is a high honor to have you in our village. I hope you appreciate our gifts, however small they may seem."

Link lifted his head. "Thank you, honored elder, for your hospitality and for sharing that remarkable tale. Sadly, I am all that remains of the Knights and many of the old ways are forever lost. I am grateful to hear of your history with my ancestors."

Qulanda finished translating and Stne nodded knowingly. "It is as we sensed then. You, as your brethren before you, speak truth regardless of its impact. That gives us hope that the line may not end with you.

"Where do you travel?"

"The old palace of the Necromancer Thanos," Link answered. "In the highlands of Canor near Lonely Lake."

"Will you accept the blessing of my people before you continue?"

"It would be my honor," Link said truthfully.

Stne drew a deep breath and let his head sink down to his chest. He stood that way for a full minute. Link could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as strong magic filled the square.

The leader of the Vless raised his head, his eyes glazed over with magic, and walked to Duena. He placed his hand on her chest. "You are at once the oldest of the group and the youngest," he said. "You possess the body of an adult, the intellect of an elder, and the bright innocence of youth. Evil cannot stand the touch of your bright-eyed gaze and seeks to destroy you because of that. Guard your gifts well and do not give in to the fear in your heart. When the time comes, you will do what you must."

Stne moved down the line to Qulanda. Again, he placed his hand on her chest. "You wear your pain like a cloak, child," he said. "It defines you, gives you purpose, but do not let it rule you. Love, when observed from afar, closely resembles hate. Indeed, they are unwilling companions to each other. It is hard for hate to transcend to love, but easy for love to turn to hate.

"Champion the turbulent emotions inside your heart and you shall find what you seek, Qulanda Rinter."

Qulanda's eyes narrowed. "_Senobate yeten huntea ken mcrthin _Penda!" she said in a heated tone.

"_Ni toba_!" Stne said sharply. "_Fent cye grene heart wic juenaete_ Penda _vent minutiea_."

Qulanda gave a small bow. "_Uteata qata_," she said calmly. "_Tvele gy, _Stne."

Link leaned in close to his friend. "What was all that about?"

Qulanda just shook her head.

Stne moved finally to Link. He placed his hand on the Knight's chest and was quiet for a long moment. The Vless' fan-shaped ears twitched several times as Stne contemplated whatever he sensed in Link. "You bear a heavy burden," he said at last. "You carry the weight of the past with you as you walk to the future. You fear your birthright, repressing it everyday of your life. _That_ is the last obstacle to overcome before you finish your journey. If you do not accomplish this, you shall fail the last task."

Stne moved to pull his hand away from Link's heart, but the Knight grabbed the small creature's wrist and held it there. "What is the last task?" he asked. "Can you see it?"

"It is not what you fear," Stne said. "It does not involve your friend or his choices or his death. The task is inside of you. To save your friend, to save history, and to stand ready for the new world order, you must become who you were always meant to be."

* * *

"Oh, gods." Link rolled slowly onto his side and opened his eyes. Painfully bright sunlight shone through the windows of their hut and the spaces in between the thatch roof. "My hair hurts."

"Mine, too," a voice muttered across the hut. Qulanda sat on the corner of her sleeping pallet cradling her head in her hands. "You were right about when the headache sets in."

"Well, you don't have to shout about it." Link sat up and copied his friend's posture. "I remember the blessing ceremony last night...celebration, wine, lots of little furry people, and then coming back here. When did you get back?"

"'Bout an hour after you left. The Vless were worried they had upset you so I stayed to reassure them all was fine." She reached for her travel pack propped next to the pallet and slowly stood. "Come on, let's go see the damage."

Link collected his belongings and followed her out of the hut. The village was surprisingly quiet and clean. There was no sign a celebration had taken place the night before. Cooking fires burned; sheets hung, drying in the sun; and children ran playing between huts. In the center of the village, the site of the _sacoz_, Link and Qulanda found Duena and Stne standing with the two mares and a group of Vless around them. The Goron looked completely well and even spoke hesitant Vlessian with Stne.

"Unbelievable," Link breathed. "She drank just as much wine as we did last night. A Goron with a wooden leg."

"I wouldn't tell her that if I were you," Qulanda said. "I can only imagine how she would take _that_ figure of speech."

Duena caught sight of them and waved them over. "Good! You two finally woke up. Stne has ordered all our supplies restocked and has even taught me a little of his language."

"How long have you been up?" Qulanda asked, shouldering her pack.

"Hours. Stne told me that a storm is approaching and we must leave soon if we wish to stay ahead of it. Unless you wish to stay another night in the village?"

Link had a sudden flash of another evening with wine and furry people. "We'd better get started then," he said.

Duena nodded and to the chieftain said, "_Dobata_,_ Majado _Stne." She turned and gathered up Epona and Avin's reins.

Qulanda stepped forward and bowed. "_Fin'oete gi beatea ohente_, Stne."

"_Dobata_, Qulanda," he said, touching her shoulder. "_Nov'e rent qeant_ Penda. _Fyent cy toba_."

The guide nodded sadly and stepped aside to join Duena.

Link smiled. "_Dobata, Majado_," he said, copying Duena.

Stne bowed and said something to the crowd in Vlessian. Immediately a part appeared in the throng. With one last wave to Stne and the gathered Vless, Link, Duena, and Qulanda walked through the opening, their mares in close tow. Several Vless followed them to the edge of the village before finally falling back.

"Link?" Duena asked as they walked. "Later, may we continue our lessons in blademastery?"

"Ask me that once the world stops spinning, okay?"

Duena nodded, but held a confused look on her face for a long while afterward.

* * *

"The visions were true," Zath, third elder of the village, said to Stne. "Wizard Homes was right all along."

The elder Vless nodded. "Yes, it is all true. The Knight of the Triforce must face much still before it is over." Stne let that phrase hang in the air for a moment, then looked away from the three departing shapes on the horizon. "We must prepare for our next guest."

"Not the princess?" Zath said. "Surely it is too soon for her."

Stne shook his head. "Not Wisdom Blessed, but a former enemy that will come to us looking for aid."

"An enemy?"

"A former Si'Frant," Stne said with a smile. "We must be ready to help her—both now and once she has fulfilled her destiny."


	27. Chapter Twenty Three

****

Chapter Twenty Three

While Link was traveling westward in the northern Werth Valley, Zelda was pushing to leave Calatia and enter the Wasteland of Canor. The Knight of the Triforce had a lot of ground on them, and Zelda knew she had to travel north and west quickly to catch up with him. Casting their mounts into a gallop whenever the mountainous Calatian terrain allowed, the group rode hard through Merchant's Pass and then northward toward the wasteland. The blue expanses of the Great Hyrulian Sea rolled out to one side of them and the rocky fingers of Calatia's north mountain range rose to the other.

The land before them was a mixture of gray sand and large rocks. Thick clouds covered the sky from horizon to horizon. Autumn was quickly approaching and the air was cold. Sitting atop her tired mare, Zelda pulled the collar of her cloak tight against the cold and biting wind rushing in from the great sea. A light mist was beginning to fall.

Twilight was setting in and her horse was having trouble finding a clear path through the loose scree. "We must stop soon," she called back to her escorts.

"Aye," Glenn agreed. "I canna hardly see."

With the whole group in agreement, they stopped near an unusually large outcropping in the foothills that would provide shelter from the wind and rain. Zelda and Impa bedded the horses in a small area near the rocks that had several green bushes struggling to hold onto life and then ducked underneath the outcropping. Pebbles crunched underneath their boots as they walked to the campsite. It was full night now and Zelda could see a faint glow emanating from a pile of sticks Glenn had gathered.

"Everything's so bloody wet," the general muttered. "Sorry, Princess."

Zelda sat across from him and drew her knees up to her chin. "It's okay, Glenn."

"Here." Impa held out a small pouch tightly cinched with a hemp cord. "Compliments of the Tower of Magic. Sprinkle that over the kindling and then try your touchwood."

Glenn did as she instructed and within seconds had a full blaze burning in the center of their shelter. "How 'bout that," he breathed.

"Sheikah witchcraft," Irbe said with a shake of his head.

"I don't care if it's the Keeper of the Underworld's spit," Zelda told him. "It's warm and I'm cold."

"Sorry, Your Highness."

They ate a quiet meal of dried meat, cheese, and tea cooked over the fire.

"How far from the wasteland do you think we are?" Irbe asked after they finished eating.

"Well"—Impa thought for a moment—"according to that necromancer's map, we should be very near the border by now. Perhaps a few leagues."

"We should get an early start, then," Zelda said. "I want to cross the border as soon as possible. The more ground we cover the better."

"Aye. I'll take the first watch."

"Actually," Impa put in, "I think we should alter our watch rotation as we near the wasteland. We must still cover a long distance in a short amount of time, and must be extra vigilant for danger. We cannot afford for fatigue to make us complacent."

"What do ya suggest, Impa?"

"Let Zelda take the first watch, then me, then you, and finally Captain Irbe. Our watches will be short, we will all have adequate rest, and the campsite will remain secure."

Glenn blinked in surprise. "Ya want Princess Zelda to take a shift?"

"She's done it before, with Link." The Sheikah turned and regarded Zelda. "Unless you do not wish to stand watch. It is your decision, of course."

Only Zelda's shock kept a smile from her face. "I'm perfectly capable of standing guard. I'll take any shift you think is best, Impa."

"It is decided then?" Impa looked to the two soldiers. Her hard gaze left little room for debate.

Glenn and Irbe slowly nodded in unison.

"Aye."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

The outcropping only worked to partially shield the now driving rain from Zelda. She sat at the edge of its limited protection with her knees drawn tight to her chin. Her cloak pooled around her like a deflated tent. She strained her hearing listening for the slightest sound that would betray an attacker. Luckily, it was late in the year for thunderstorms so only the patter of raindrops hitting the stones around her made listening difficult.

A droplet hit her forehead, splashing water in her eyes. Pulling a hand free of the wet folds of her cloak, Zelda wiped away the water sticking to her eyelashes and murmured, "This is what I asked for. 'All experiences are just disguised lessons.'"

"So you do remember your Sheikah training," Impa's voice said behind her.

Zelda gave a start and turned to see her former nanny wrapped in the shadows. Impa watched with a slightly amused expression.

"Do not concern yourself," she said. "I could approach Captain Irbe and General Tarmag with equal stealth."

"'A Sheikah is one with the shadows,'" Zelda quoted.

Impa walked silently to her old charge. "May I sit?" At Zelda's nod, she sat beside the young princess and sighed. "You remember much more than I had assumed."

"You were correct about one thing, however," Zelda said. "I never learned all that I should have. I learned enough to survive, but nothing more."

Impa nodded. "That could be rectified."

"Are you offering your tutelage again?"

"The offer was never removed," Impa said. "You walked away from me. Matters of state became your concern."

"Out of necessity," Zelda replied. "Without my father, someone had to put Hyrule back together." She paused for a long moment. "That was also when Link ventured off. You're in a privileged club, Impa: loved ones that I turned away from for what I thought was the good of the country."

"It was not a wrong choice, child. Though I would enjoy knowing that while the Sheikah blood may die with me, the knowledge and tradition will continue in another. There were those of my kind that would have killed me where I stand for thinking such thoughts, but it is how I feel.

"Sometimes the choices we make for the benefit of others comes at great personal price."

"Is that a lesson or a statement?"

"You tell me."

Zelda smiled slightly. "I think that even if you and I saw another hundred years together, you would continue to teach me."

Impa reached out and pushed a strand of wet hair away from Zelda's face. "I have only recently begun to see you as the woman you have become. I still remember the precocious child with an affinity for leaving the castle with an equally precocious young boy. When did you grow, Zelda?"

"The day I began asking the same question and longing for the days of sneaking from the castle."

They sat in silence for a long while, listening to the falling of rain around them.

"I remember once," Impa began, "when I slightly less than your age now, I knew a man named Pelx. He and I were initiates together in the way of the shadows. We were young and too foolish to know what we wanted. We knew only touch and smell and taste." Her eyes gazed off, seeing things from years gone by. "Our Senoi—our teacher of the old ways—grew concerned of our priorities and sent us off together to walk a particularly difficult fane deep in the Gathland woodlands.

"He told us that if we successfully navigated the path, we would have completed our training." She gave a grim smile. "We were excited by that news and talked when we should have listened. We broke the one rule that a warrior must never break: we separated ourselves from the environment. We walked through the shadows when we should have walked with them.

"We never saw the glimmer shade until it was too late." Zelda had no idea what a glimmer shade was, but could tell from her tone that it was not something one wanted to encounter while daydreaming. "Pelx and I managed to kill it, but he was wounded while doing so. Badly wounded. I know little of the healing craft and could do nothing to ease his pain. The poison of a glimmer shade is a terrible one; it makes the body unable to move but not to feel. He could feel each of his wounds and all of my failed ministrations, but could take no action himself.

"He begged me to go on without him but still I thought with my heart. Finally, after hours of suffering, he begged for death. I had seen so much that night, felt so much hot blood on my hands and clothes, I was able to think with my head."

Impa met Zelda's fascinated gaze with a stare that sent ice down the princess' spine. "I emerged from that fane a full Sheikah in training and in spirit." She patted the knife that always hung from her belt. "And with Pelx's knife."

"A lesson?" Zelda managed.

Impa nodded. "To walk this path you have chosen," she said, "you must be willing to make such sacrifices. It's more than just sitting watch, Zelda. It's more than sneaking from the castle. Could you make the hard decisions if you had to?"

Zelda had a sudden image of her and Link in those woods and a sword in her hands. Could she truly do such a thing? It was horrible to even consider, but something inside told her that seeing him in such pain and torment would be worse.

"If he were in pain...and there was no other way...I think I could," she whispered.

Surprisingly, Impa reached out and hugged Zelda then. "I hope you never have to face such a choice," she muttered into Zelda's hair. "But it gives me heart to know you would choose right."

They parted and Impa asked, "Would you like me to stay a while longer?"

Zelda shook her head. "No, you should rest for your watch. I'll be fine by myself."

A sad smile touched the Sheikah's lips and she stood. "I see that now. Goodnight, Zelda."

"'Night, Impa." Before the words were fully past Zelda's tongue, Impa had taken a step back and again faded into the shadows. Alone, Zelda shivered and sank deeper into her cloak. She wanted to believe she shook because of the cold and wetness but knew there were other reasons.

* * *

Late the next day—and after more than a few leagues—Zelda's group crossed the boundary separating Calatia and the Wasteland of Canor.

"Bells o' the Underworld," Glenn breathed taking in the open vastness of the wasteland.

Looking at the rows of dead tress stretching to the horizon, the thick grayish blue sand, and cloudy, ominous sky Zelda agreed with that curse.

Irbe sniffed deeply and grimaced. "There's magic here," he said. "A lot of it."

Impa nodded and dismounted Shadow. "Yes," she said walking forward. "Ancient magic swept through this land long ago and caused this. But"—she stopped and dropped into a crouch—"remnants of the old can still be found."

The Sheikah thrust her hand into the gray sand up to her wrist and upturned the earth in large handfuls. She withdrew her hand. "Observe." From the upturned sand suddenly came a flood of tiny insects, angrily snapping mandibles and emitting a chirping-click sound.

"They're all over," Impa continued, walking back to her mount. "Plants, too. Some vinelike plants grow further north and spend almost their entire life underneath the sand—the sun never touches them."

"How is it you know so much about this place?" Irbe asked.

Impa swung herself onto the saddle. "I spent more than a year here with Link's quarry. Duncan knew much about the Wasteland of Canor, and he was fond of his own voice. I had thought his knowledge was pointless, but now I see that he had intended on coming here for a long time." She paused and considered the horizon with narrowed eyes. "I was only his guide and excuse."

Zelda couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a twinge of hurt in that final statement. It had never occurred to her to think of what Duncan's betrayal had meant to Impa. She and Duncan had traveled together for some time and had doubtlessly become close. Zelda made a mental note to ask Impa about that in the near future.

Moving on a silent command, Impa came up on Zelda's left while Irbe, like a living sword just waiting for a command, took her right, and Glenn rode forward and took the point position. "Which way, Highness?"

Zelda's lips pulled upward in a slight smile. "Same as always, Glenn. To the north and west."

They dug in their heels, casting the four mounts and two horses carrying supplies into a hard gallop. Cold wind blew in Zelda's face and pushed at her clothes. Her smile grew as the horses, glad to finally be away from the rocky landscape, flew across the flat expanse of Canor. 'I'm coming, Link,' she thought. 'Just hold on a little while longer.'

* * *

Monotony, Zelda learned from Link while fleeing Jarod, was a dangerous thing when traveling. The sameness led to complacency and that made it easy to overlook potential threats. As they had journeyed across Hyrule and then later Calatia, he thought up increasingly imaginative chores and contests for her to do. Try as he did, however, Link was never able to teach her how to tie a rabbit snare. Her failures often ended with her wrists tied together and Link having to cut them free.

Even with that lesson of complacency learned, Zelda took a small amount of pleasure in the orderly manner in which Glenn, Impa, and Irbe set up camp every evening. As always, Zelda stood at the perimeter of their small campsite caring for the horses. She removed their tacks and piled them in the corner. She took special care to keep the saddle blankets off the ground because the sand would chafe the horses' hides when again saddled.

The tacks taken care of, she took a brush and began grooming the horses. They had ridden hard today and the mounts had worked themselves into a good lather. Zelda's white mare relaxed into the brushing and her breathing soon calmed and came out in short puffs.

Behind her Glenn had finished building a fire using the rotten wood the dead trees offered, and was now stirring a bubbling stew made from their survival supplies.

Zelda was only half listening when Irbe returned from his patrol and walked across the camp to Glenn. "Area is secure, General Tarmag," he reported.

"Aye." Glenn added spices from several jars to the stew then returned them to his pack. "Good work, Josia."

Irbe glanced at Zelda, then dropped into a crouch next to his commanding officer. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Glenn looked up in surprise. "Aye."

Irbe wet his lips and began, "Sir, I know we talked in the past of a permanent position at the palace. I also know that the likelihood of that reassignment is still questionable." He drew a deep breath and met Glenn's gaze with his one eye. "I am requesting a discharge from duty when we return to Hyrule, sir. I know this is sudden, but only you and Princess Zelda have the authority to grant such a special request."

"Why, Josia?"

"I believe you know why, sir. I served more than my required time in the service, and I think I have earned this request."

"Ya have earned better," Glenn said. "What would ya do?"

Irbe smiled faintly. It was a decidedly odd look on the carefully built soldier. "Maya always wanted our kids to grow up on a farm. Maybe I'll take what little we have saved and buy a nice plot of land somewhere."

"I know ya, Josia. Ya ain't no farmer!" Glenn drew a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. "When we get back, I'll see what I can do 'bout findin' another position for ya. Yer a good soldier and I don't wanna lose ya."

"But if there are no open positions," Irbe said, "you'll grant my request?"

Glenn was silent for a long moment. "Aye," he agreed reluctantly.

"Thank you, sir." Irbe stood, smartly saluted and clicked his boots together, and walked away from the center of the campsite.

Zelda watched him with a perplexed expression as he passed her. The captain didn't look back as he crossed the perimeter.

* * *

They traveled steadily north and west for the next several days. The line of blue marking the Great Hyrulian Sea shrank as they pushed north and finally disappeared all together. The wind shifted and no longer carried the clean scent of water: now cold, desolate wind from deep within the wasteland pushed constantly at them. The sight of barren trees became much more common and finally developed into a dense forest of death.

Every day they rode until night had fully set in and the horses could no longer see a clear path or were just too exhausted to continue. Their small campfires ate the rotten wood of Canor quickly and Irbe took to chopping up almost entire trees with his war-ax for nightly firewood.

Knowing that Link and his companions had a healthy lead on them pushed the group to move fast over the wasteland. They didn't stop to observe the oddities of Canor or the peculiar beauty offered by such widespread destruction. When they were not galloping hard, or when they walked the horses to rest them, Impa would share tales of her time in the wasteland. She told them what she knew of the land and air creatures. They maintained the new watch schedule with Zelda sitting a full watch period.

They fell into a routine of riding to exhaustion and surviving on little food and little sleep. They became complacent to their dangerous surroundings...

* * *

Dark clouds hung low on their sixteenth day in the Wasteland of Canor. The smell of rain momentarily overwhelmed the underlying scent of magic in the air. Amazingly, thunder rumbled in the distance.

Zelda pulled Masie to a halt and glanced back. "Why did we stop?" she asked.

Irbe sat atop his bay looking toward the east. It wasn't long past morning and brightness was still visible at the edge of the thick blanket of dark clouds. He pointed. "Look at that."

Zelda's gaze followed his indication to a small dark blob on the horizon. She squinted. "What is that?"

"It looks like a wind funnel," Glenn said beside Irbe. "Like those that sweep through the eastern badlands back home." His war-stallion danced to the side, eager to continue.

Impa, also watching, was oddly quiet.

"I've been through some of those wind funnels," Irbe said. "If that's what it is, we'll have to find cover fast."

"Nah," Glenn said. "It's at least a hundred miles o' way. We ain't in no danger."

"Possibly, Tarmag," Impa said softly. "Possibly."

"Impa?" Zelda asked. "Do you know something about that?"

Instead of answering, the Sheikah closed her eyes, let her head roll down to her chest, and ceased breathing for a moment. Glenn and Irbe shared a nervous glance. Impa's eyes suddenly snapped open. "We have to leave now!"

The urgent tone of her voice snapped the two lifelong soldiers into action. They wheeled their mounts around and dug in their heels. Glenn slapped Masie's hindquarters as he passed, casting the white mare into a gallop. Zelda tightened her grip on the reins and hung on as Masie tucked herself behind Glenn's stallion. A glance back told her Irbe and Impa had assumed the guardian positions to the right and left of her. In the rear of the procession, the two mares carrying most of their supplies dutifully followed.

"What is it, Impa?" Zelda called over the clamor of hoof beats and wind.

"The Boonja!" Impa replied.

"What's that?" Irbe asked.

Impa shook her head. "A creature from a Sheikah's nightmares."

"That doesn't tell me how to kill it," Irbe said. "What are its weaknesses?"

"It has none. It is the dark consummation of a land's blood and tears. It is nature's vengeance given life."

"Perfect," Zelda, Glenn, and Irbe said dryly.

For several long minutes, Zelda thought Impa's warning was for naught. There were no sounds of pursuit and the horses did not seem to sense any danger. But then the screech sounded.

It tore through Zelda's body, reverberating through every bone, muscle, nerve, and cell. The teeth in the back of her mouth echoed the terrible sound with throbbing pain. She looked back and saw a monstrous deformity of nature. It was as though a thundercloud had detached from the sky and was now chasing them.

The cloud-creature rolled in on itself as it slowly gained on them. Zelda thought it was her eyes playing tricks, but she swore some of those rolls looked like tiny mouths puckering.

'How did it catch us so quickly?' she wondered. It was only several miles back and was slowly overtaking them.

"What do ya suggest we do, Impa?" Glenn shouted. "Ya have been here before."

Impa shook her head. "It won't cross the river," she said. "Our only chance is to cross the Werth."

Irbe glanced back. "How far?"

In a sudden flash, Zelda saw the map Keiran drew for her and all those she had studied before leaving the palace. "Not far at this pace," she said. "But it might not be close enough." Another screech sounded behind them, closer this time.

"It's the only way," Impa said.

"It can't be the only way!" Zelda insisted. "There are always other ways." She forced herself to think. What had Link done when he encountered the Boonja? She tried to remember but drew a blank.

"Yer right," Glenn said, pulling the reins and slowing his stallion. "There's another way."

"Divide and divert?" Impa asked, matching Shadow's speed to Glenn's.

"Any better ideas?"

"Sounds good to me," Impa said. "Two are more useful than one for this."

"Aye." General Tarmag glanced at Irbe. "We'll meet up somewhere across the Werth. Protect Princess Zelda until then."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait, wait," Zelda called. "What are you going to do?"

"Glenn and I will drop back, grab the Boonja's attention, and then pull away from you."

"And once that bugger's off yer backs," Glenn continued, "we'll split again. By then we'll be at the Werth."

"Unless the Boonja gets you first," Zelda said. "I forbid this!"

"For all yer power," Glenn said with a shake of his head. "Ya canna forbid me from protectin' ya."

Another screech sounded and cut off Zelda's reply. She only had time to touch Impa's gaze with her own before the Sheikah drew her reins and fell back.

Impa and Glenn rode with the shoulders of their mounts almost touching. From a distance, the unaided eye could easily mistake them for a single rider—assuming the Boonja even _had_ eyes, of course. Gradually, with the Boonja close behind, they angled to the west. They continued west while Zelda and Captain Irbe and their packhorses traveled straight north. The Boonja stayed with Impa and Glenn.

Zelda tried to divide her attention between watching them and controlling her mount, but eventually had to check the frightened mare's sprint so she didn't lose her footing on the sandy terrain.

After almost an hour, Zelda stopped and looked in the direction the general and Sheikah had disappeared. Canor lay open before her, but, despite how hard she searched, she could find no sign of Impa, Glenn, or the Boonja. They were gone.


	28. Chapter Twenty Four

****

Chapter Twenty Four

Zelda and Irbe crossed the Werth River not long after nightfall. His bay and Masie were lathered and their breath coming in uneven wheezes. The mounts didn't want to cross the slowly moving river, but with a little prodding from their riders, the horses waded into the water.

The river rose to the shoulders of the horses and Zelda could feel water seeping over the tops of her boots and soaking her stockings. She grimaced and endured the discomfort.

Once across, Irbe dismounted and waded back into the river. With his size, the water only came to his chest. On the opposite bank, he gathered the halters of the two packhorses and led them across the Werth. Zelda was amazed those two mares had managed to keep up with her and Irbe. Like Masie, the packhorses were wheezing and physically exhausted. It seemed that only luck and force of will kept them from falling down dead.

Zelda sat with her back against a dead tree while Irbe unloaded the packhorses. She pulled off her boots and upturned them, watching as water poured out to soak the sandy ground. She set her wet boots aside and pulled her soiled stockings off, too. Stretching and flexing her bare toes in the sand, Zelda leaned back and closed her eyes.

After a full minute of silence in which Zelda almost fell asleep, she opened her eyes and came to her feet. Irbe was working hard in the near blackness to set up a camp. The heavy clouds remained even though the forbidding sense of rain had passed. Night seemed all the more darker and isolating for not even starlight could penetrate the thick canopy.

She walked to the captain. "Let me help." Those were the first words she'd spoken directly to him in almost a day. As far as traveling companions went, Irbe was rather inconspicuous.

"You should rest, Princess," he said. "I'll take care of this." He gestured vaguely to the campsite around them.

"It will be morning by the time you finish," Zelda countered. "I have two arms and two legs that work properly; put me to work."

"Yes, Highness." Irbe sighed. "Finish unpacking the supply horses and then brush them down." He moved off to work on building a fire.

Tired but happy to still be moving, Zelda went about her assigned chores. Again her mind drifted to the time on the road with Link when they fled to Calatia. Lost in those happy memories, she could almost forget about Impa and Glenn's absence. Just the thought of those memories being joyous ones was laughable. She and Link were pursued like criminals, she was shot in the arm with an arrow, and a madman whose only purpose in life was to end a curse placed on him eons ago controlled Hyrule.

They were hardly the best of times, but there had been a simple joy of just being on the road. Some nights Link failed to trap anything for dinner and, because they didn't have proper supplies along, they both went to sleep hungry. Those times had made her wish for the ranks of chefs previously at her call, but also made the nights he did trap something all the more memorable. "All food tastes like a trained chef prepared it if one is hungry enough," Link was fond of saying.

She wondered if someday in the future she, Link, Duncan, Glenn, Josia, and Impa would all sit around a large table in the great hall of Hyrule Castle and laugh about these days that seemed so dark. She tried calling that image to mind without Glenn or Impa, but could not. Plus, if Duncan already had the Eye of Thanos, the chances of him living to sit at that table were not good.

After she finished caring for the horses, Zelda turned and discovered that Irbe had built a small fire in a loose circle of stones he'd gathered. Presently, he was heating a pot of tea in the center of the fire.

Zelda padded over to the fire and sat across from Irbe. She held her hands over the dancing flame, grateful for the warmth.

"I'm, ah, sure that Impa and General Tarmag made it over the Werth," Irbe said tentatively. "Tarmag is one of the best horsemen at the palace, and Impa's horse is legendary for its speed."

Zelda gave a small smile. "Thank you for that, Josia. I can only hope that they managed to stay ahead of the Boonja." She watched as wood, hallowed by time and mold, crumbled to red embers in the fire. "I don't know what I would do without either of them."

"General Tarmag was my instructor at the war college," Irbe said almost too quietly for her ears. "He trained me in all manner of combat and tactics. He's very important to me, too."

Zelda regarded the young palace guard for a long moment. She had the impression that such an admission from the hardened soldier was not an ordinary thing. "But not politics," she guessed. "He never taught you about the royal court?"

Irbe glanced at her. "No," he said. "I never gave much mind to politics. A soldier's all I ever wanted to be."

"Then why quit?"

He threw another log in the fire. Orange sparks fluttered high into the bleak Canor sky. "There are two lives that I must lead," he said, not looking away from the flames. "Irbe the soldier and Irbe the family man. I can't be both, so I have to choose. I choose my wife and three daughters."

"I didn't know," Zelda said. "Is that why you want a permanent position at the castle?"

He nodded.

Zelda frowned. "Why didn't you put in for a reassignment sooner? If you have three children, surely there must have been—"

"General Tarmag always denied them personally," Irbe put in. "Always. I asked him why once, and he told me that he had plans for my career. Big plans, though he never said more than that."

"I'm sorry," Zelda said. "When we return to Hyrule, I'll find a position for you. Maybe I'll even reestablish the position of Royal Guard like Glenn and just about everyone else thinks I should."

"I don't want that sort of pity," Irbe said with sudden venom. "You weren't going to do that before you heard about my family."

"Actually," Zelda said patiently, "I was. I have intended to reestablish the position since before we left Calatia."

"I don't understand. Why didn't you tell General Tarmag?"

Zelda smiled to herself. "Stubbornness is a flaw I am working hard to overcome. I'm not always successful."

He laughed at that. How odd it must seem, Zelda mused, for a soldier to laugh with his sovereign.

They ate a cold dinner of cheese, hard saddle bread, and cured meat. The camp was unsettlingly quiet with the absence of Glenn and Impa. The sphere of light cast by the flickering flames seemed large and out of proportion. The enormity of the Wasteland of Canor pressed against them from all sides, reminding them of just how far they were from home. Unseen nocturnal predators howled in the distance.

"I'll take the first watch," Zelda said after they had finished eating. "It will be a longer shift for both of us tonight."

Irbe agreed. "With only two of us, yes." He gazed at the smoothly flowing river. "I hope that creature stays on that side of the river."

"Impa said it wouldn't cross the Werth," Zelda said. "I believe her."

He scoffed. "No offense, Princess Zelda, but I would feel more at ease with more than just the word of a Sheikah Witch."

"What about the word of a Knight of the Triforce? Link also said that the Boonja wouldn't cross water," Zelda told him. "He encountered the same creature when he was in the lower Werth Valley. His group managed to find refuge in a complex of underground springs. I didn't remember that earlier, but I do now."

The captain frowned. "How do you know that?"

"He told me."

"Oh." Irbe sat back and considered that for a moment. "You really did invade the dreams of the First Knight, then?"

"Yes. Though it was more of a shared dream than an invasion." Zelda felt her face heat at those memories and was suddenly grateful for the dim light. "You didn't believe me when I told you and the others that I had contacted him?"

"I...didn't give it much thought, Princess," Irbe said, struggling to remain diplomatic. "The whole idea seems rather abhorrent to me."

"It was necessary," she said, undeterred. "That time helped center both of us and prepare us for what is to come."

Irbe threw another log on the fire. "Forgive me if I'm out of line, Princess," he said after a short contemplation. "But you are in love with him, are you not?"

"I am."

"And this whole journey has been for his sake?"

Zelda shook her head. "No, not at all. The Eye of Thanos represents a very real threat to not just Hyrule but the entire world. Duncan must be stopped, and I would pursue that even without Link."

"You will take him as your paramour?"

Zelda was thankful for the dim light again. "I don't think he would like that title," she said, deftly avoiding the question.

Irbe laughed again, softly this time. He nodded and stood. Walking to where Zelda had unloaded the horses, he retrieved his bedroll. "Will you be okay sitting watch for so long?"

"I've done it before," she told him.

Captain Irbe, drained from the day's ride, didn't offer any further argument.

* * *

Glenn Tarmag slid from his mount's saddle and gratefully waded into the Werth River. The water was cold and sent a shock through the general's system. He took a deep breath and ducked his head underneath the river's surface.

He traveled faster than he ever had before to escape that bloody Boonja. Several miles after he and Impa had left Zelda and Irbe, he and the Sheikah split apart in hope that the Boonja would only follow one and give the other a chance at survival. The Boonja had stayed with him.

Glenn had pushed Ervin, his war-stallion, hard just to stay a hair's length ahead of the dark cloud-creature. The Boonja was unbelievably fast and never seemed to tire. Ervin seemed to draw strength and speed from the realization that death would have been assured if caught. Somehow, Glenn and Ervin had managed to make it to the Werth and to safety. True to Impa's word, the Boonja withdrew yards from the water.

Taking the pounding in his head caused by the cold water as a sign his heart was still beating, Glenn surfaced. He spat out a mouthful of water and stretched sore limbs.

He glanced back the way he had come and marveled at the distance crossed in such a short amount of time. Even in his days as a green lieutenant running messages from one command post to another, he had never traveled so far in one ride. He silently promised Ervin extra oats and time alone with one of Zelda's best mares when they returned to Hyrule.

Glenn turned and began making his way to the north bank. "Come on, boy," he called. "We gotta find Impa and the others."

Ervin limped into the water and started to follow his master across. Halfway across, however, the war-stallion paused. His eyes widened and his ears perked to attention.

Glenn halted in the shallow water and looked back. "Hear somethin', boy?" He reached down and cleared his sword in its scabbard.

A sudden rush of movement behind him shattered the perfect silence of the northern Werth Valley. Glenn pulled his sword free and began to turn to face this new threat. He never made it around. Halfway there, a soft boot made very firm contact with Glenn's jaw and knocked him backward into the river.

Cold water again closed around his head and his palace sword tumbled from his fingers. Surfacing and coughing water from his lungs, Glenn launched himself blindly at his attacker. He made contact and together they fell into the shallows. Tiny stones flew into the air as they hit.

Glenn rolled and managed to gain the advantage. Brief glimpses of an ashen face and drenched gray tunic were all he had time for as he drew back a fist and drove it down upon the attacker's jaw. The smaller man's head snapped to the left with the force of the blow only to go back the other way when Glenn's follow-through landed.

The general punched again, again, again and finally rolled off the unconscious gray clad man. Glenn steadied his breathing and climbed hand over hand to the Werth. He had to retrieve his sword. A kick to the ribs knocked the wind from his already sore lungs and tossed him into the air.

Glenn landed with a groan and rolled away. 'There's at least two of 'em,' the part of his brain still thinking clearly said. Fighting the protest of his fifty-four year old body, Glenn came to his feet in time to see another kick aimed at his head.

He ducked and caught the soft boot coming at him with both hands. He saw that the second attacker was dressed similar to the first and had the same pale complexion.

The attacker twisted in Tarmag's grip and jumped. His other leg caught Glenn in the chest and they both went down.

The captain of the guard rose to his knees and managed to turn away one punch but failed to stop the other one. Glenn's head snapped back and blackness toyed with the edge of his vision. He tried to turn away, but the attacker was suddenly there. Another punch to the jaw and Glenn tasted blood. Another kick to the ribs and that blackness started to win.

Glenn felt himself roll onto his back and couldn't be sure if he had ordered his body to do that, or if someone was moving him. Distantly he heard Ervin nicker in anger. 'What a good horse,' he thought, 'comin' to save his master.' Ervin was going to earn more than one turn with Zelda's mares and all the bloody oats one horse could ever eat.

"I love you, Isobel," escaped Glenn's lips and then he knew nothing more.

* * *

Impa dismounted Shadow once across the river and considered the northern Werth Valley. Absently, she shook water from her boots as she thought. By her best estimate, she was several miles west of where Zelda and Irbe should have crossed the river and not far to the east of where Glenn was heading.

Her thoughts paused on Glenn for a moment. She said a small prayer to the goddesses his people normally worshiped for his safety. When they were riding side by side, she had hoped the Boonja would follow her because Shadow had a much better chance of out running such a creature.

Knowing that wishing would not bring him back if the Boonja did indeed capture him, Impa gathered Shadow's reins and began walking to where Zelda and Irbe would have crossed. The Sheikah knew that her duty was to Zelda's safety and mourning fallen comrades without first ensuring the success of her mission would only cheapen Glenn's sacrifice. Besides, there was a chance he was still alive.

Impa walked for some time lost in her thoughts and listening to the labored breath of her tired mount. It was growing late and she knew that Shadow would need time to rest, but she wanted to close the distance to Zelda as much as possible before setting up camp. If Zelda did indeed understand the necessity of responsibility, then she would not slow in her pursuit of the Knight of the Triforce.

Impa's magically enhanced senses warned her of the skulkers before they were close enough to begin an attack. The Sheikah dropped the reins of her horse, held up a hand to indicate she should stay back, and walked several paces in front of Shadow. The mare had served her well today and was in no condition for combat. Impa was confident she could handle whoever sought to challenge her alone.

The first attacker came from behind her. Impa waited a breath, then spun about. Wind rushed past her as well honed muscles mixed with Sheikah magic and gave her near supernatural speed. Her left hand lashed out and caught the fist aimed at her head. She twisted, stepped wide, and threw the gray clad man to the ground.

The man landed with a roll and was on his feet in a blink.

"Who are you?" Impa demanded.

Instead of answering, the man came forward in a fury of kicks and punches. Impa backpedaled, dodging, ducking, and turning away what strikes she could. At the edge of the river, Impa feinted to the right and dropped to the ground. She hooked a leg around his and pulled. The man went down and again moved to shoot back up. Impa was faster.

She took a step forward and kicked him in the ribs. His breath left his body in a loud whoosh. Her follow-through caught him in the nose and sent blood flying.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

"Qin of the Si'Frant," he gasped in a bastardized version of Hylian.

The Si'Frant! Impa felt her skin go cold. Her eyes widened and she shuffled closer to the river. What were the slaves of the Si'Ra doing here? Had she unintentionally led the group to the realm of The Ones Who Serve?

Zelda! Light, Zelda only had Irbe for protection in this dangerous area. Even fighting together, Impa knew, those two could not match the fanatical warrior-race. The feeling of having just disturbed a hornet's nest overcame Impa.

Those thoughts only took seconds, but robbed Impa of concentration and provided the downed Si'Frant with an opening for attack. He jumped to his feet, charged her, and slammed into her at a full run.

Impa twisted as she fell backward with the Si'Frant on top of her. Small rocks dug painfully into her back as she landed, but Impa didn't pay the pain any mind. She drew her legs up and planted her boots against the Si'Frant's chest. Gripping his shoulders for better leverage, Impa rolled slightly and kicked him off her. He flew over her head and landed with a loud splash in the Werth.

Shadow neighed in warning and Impa's sharp senses told her of another Si'Frant joining the fray. Impa kicked her legs outward and flipped onto her feet. She stepped forward and met the running Si'Frant head on.

The second Si'Frant swung high, but Impa had already gone low. She ducked his strike, twisted as she passed by, and drove a chop deep into his abdomen. He grunted in surprise of the attack but recovered quickly.

Impa spun and immediately jumped and launched a kick at him. He tried to backpedal but not before her boot nicked his shoulder and sent him stumbling back. Impa came down with catlike grace, pivoted, and drove the heel of her hand into his jaw. The Si'Frant's head snapped back and his eyes glazed over with daze.

Water sloshing was the only warning that the first Si'Frant was mounting another strike. Impa spun and saw the first man draw back and let free a smooth stone the size of her fist. Magic was flowing before reason could catch up with her mind. Lightning crackled from her spread fingertips and shattered the stone to dust in mid-flight.

Neither Si'Frant seemed surprised by the introduction of magic to the combat, or by her abilities that belied age. Commendably, their training taught them to focus solely on the target and forget any harmful emotions such as shock during the battle. The Sheikah training in Impa grimly approved of such hard discipline.

Impa heard the second Si'Frant draw steel and saw the first draw a long bodkin from a sheath hidden in his boot. In a blink she drew Pelx's knife from her belt and began to flourish it over her fingers.

Dimly she noted that a purplish fluid stained their bodkins. Its coloration was too light for dried blood so it was a poison of some sort. Given the commitment shown by the Si'Frant so far, Impa doubted that the poison would simply inflame a wound. This was now a battle to the death.

Wind roared past Impa's ears and the hem of her robe twirled about as she spun, jumped, and countered the strikes of two long knifes. Sparks lit the late afternoon as Sheikah and Si'Frant metal crossed.

Impa stopped a strike aimed at her midsection, let the blade drop, and quickly turned to her second opponent. She caught his knife with hers and twisted her wrists in an attempt to throw the blade from his hands. He read the maneuver, however, and let his grip on the hilt go lax and slipped the knife away from hers. He spun out of range of her counterattack and she turned to face the first Si'Frant.

Qin smiled through the blood running freely down his face from his broken nose and thrust his knife at her. Impa parried and moved to riposte. Her silent admiration of these Si'Frant increased. They understood the lessons of pain. Though Qin was injured, he had bested the pain and would ignore it until the battle was over. Perhaps the Si'Frant and Sheikah were not so far removed after all.

Qin blocked Impa's strike and shuffled back slightly. Impa pushed relentlessly forward. She swung high, dodged his riposte, and followed-through low. Again and again her blade slammed into his.

The magic in her screamed a warning that the second Si'Frant was about to rejoin the fray. Impa surrendered to the calm within and acted without thought. Her left boot found a stable purchase on a large stone protruding from the ground. She swung blindly at Qin, noting only dimly the slight resistance and the sharp hiss through jagged teeth that he gave, and let her weight fall on her left leg.

Impa jumped, spinning about as she did so, and came down already moving through the blade forms. More sparks flew as the edges of their knifes kissed. Impa was a blur as she struck high, low, at his midsection, and pulled back in to parry and turn away his weak counterstrikes.

Feinting, she lashed out and wrapped her hand around his knife-wrist. She forced his hand down and slashed at his throat. Instinct was all that saved the Si'Frant from having his throat cut open. He jerked his head back at the last second and received a cut across his cheek and a deep gash in his shoulder instead of a fatal wound.

Impa didn't take the time to follow-through; she jumped again, leaned into a flip, and came down beside Qin. She saw then that the first Si'Frant was injured, too. A shallow cut across his stomach stained his gray tunic with black blood.

Had she the time, Impa would have allowed herself to enjoy the sight of his blood. Reacting quickly she gripped Pelx's knife with both hands and stabbed at Qin. He tried switching his bodkin to his non-dominant hand, but the rigors of combat and his injuries slowed him.

Impa's knife plunged into Qin's shoulder. She withdrew it and stabbed him again. She felt the edge slide along his collarbone. Leaving the knife in him, Impa spun on her heel and drove her elbow hard into his broken nose.

Qin cried out then—the only acknowledgement of the pain since the battle begun. Impa's opinion of him lessened. She completed her spin and punched him just above the left ear. His eyes rolled back into his head until only the whites showed and he crumpled to the ground.

A sharp whistle found Impa's keen hearing. Decades of weapons play told her what caused that sound: the second Si'Frant had thrown his knife.

Magic flared and Impa was moving. Wind and the power of the Sheikah roared in her ears as she spun far faster than her creator ever intended. The knife flew toward her heart; that was where she would have aimed. The world around her was a dizzying blur as she spun, stepped to the side...and felt the Si'Frant's blade nick her arm.

'So close,' she thought and then dropped hard to the ground. More pain than a small cut should feel exploded in her right arm. A scream bubbled upward but she forced it down; she was stronger than these Si'Frant!

Her vision became fuzzy and the pain worked its way up her arm to the sides of her neck. Without being fully conscious of it, she began chanting Sheikah spells for nullifying poison. Training had conditioned her body to endure venom and toxins of every sort. It would help, though, if she knew the nature of the poison. She forced her mind to think back to all of Duncan's ramblings about the Wasteland of Canor. He never said anything about poisons though.

She stopped chanting when her arms went numb and she fell face first into the dirt. "Curse your bloody eyes, Duncan," she mumbled and then lost consciousness.

* * *

"You asked if I would take Link as my consort," Zelda said, breaking the quiet that had settled between her and Irbe. "Why didn't you ask if I would marry him?"

Irbe, riding behind and to the right of her, glanced up in surprise. It had been two days since they cross the Werth River and aside from polite small talk, they hadn't spoken to each other. The silence was not born of animosity, but of a comfortable familiarity developing between them.

"I, ah, just assumed that you wouldn't marry," he said finally. "If I was wrong, I apologize."

Zelda shook her head. "You weren't wrong, but without any training in matters of the court, I wondered how you knew that." Marriage between nobles was, at best, a tool for advancement and positional security. Even her father's marriage was one of necessity, not love. Then, House Genary, despite holding the throne, needed the additional security that such a marriage brought. Even with the tragic ending, Harkinian was stronger for having done it. In Zelda's mind, marriage was a tool while consorts and concubines were the heirs of love.

"It just seemed right," Irbe said. "I can't imagine you taking a husband and giving up some power. I don't mean any disrespect by that, only that it seems less complicated politically to have consorts."

Zelda smiled to herself. She was beginning to see why Glenn had singled him out years ago. If his big plans for Irbe were what Zelda suspected, then he had made a very good choice. "It's a shame you were never trained in the ways of the court, Josia," she said. "You have good instincts for political thinking."

"Is that an insult, Highness?" he asked lightly.

"In hindsight, it very well could be." They laughed together.

After a time, Zelda became aware of a pair of cloaked figures slowly coming into view on the horizon. Their laughter died away and she felt more than heard Irbe become alert. He cleared his short sword in its scabbard and fingered the hilt of his war ax.

"Could it be General Tarmag and Impa?" he asked.

Zelda shook her head. "No horses."

The two figures didn't move as Zelda and Irbe rode closer. At fifteen paces away, Irbe called out, "Hullo there!"

One of the strangers turned to the other, nodded once, and stepped forward. From underneath the cowl of his hood, he peered up at Zelda. The princess could only see half of the man's face but something about him seemed familiar...

At that moment wind parted the folds of their cloaks and Zelda saw that they were clad in dark trousers and long gray tunics that hung loose over narrow frames. The hood of the one looking at her pushed back enough to make out more of his face. Ashen skin and eyes the color of hardened mud stared at her. Zelda's skin went cold with recognition.

"Si'Frant!" she hissed. Recalling the name of the one staring at her took only a second of thought. She would never forget that day in the Temple of Time when the Si'Frant had betrayed Link while he tried to help them. "Gil!"

Captain Irbe, having already prepared himself for combat, didn't ask questions or hesitate; he simply responded to the alarm in Zelda's voice. Standing up in the stirrups, Irbe launched himself at Gil.

The student of Pav stepped smoothly to the side, brought his arms up at incredible speed, and easily threw the larger man aside. Irbe hit the ground hard, rolled, and came to his feet with his ax in hand. He stepped forward and swung at the second Si'Frant.

The second servant of Jarod sidestepped, pivoted, and avoided Irbe's wide swing without mounting a counterstrike.

Zelda dug her heels into Masie's sides and aimed for Gil. Masie was hardly Epona or a war-stallion, but she knew that these strangers startled her mistress and responded with the unwavering loyalty of an animal.

Gil barely had time to pull his cloak off before Masie was upon him. He twisted away from her first kick, jumped to avoid the second, and backflipped away.

Zelda pulled Masie's reins and began lining her up for another attack. She remembered all too well the combat training these Si'Frant received as part of their religious indoctrination. Only luck, magic, and quick thinking had kept Link alive during his two encounters with the Si'Frant.

"Wait, Princess Zelda!" Gil cried, still in motion to keep away from Masie. "We are not here to hurt you. Listen please!"

Zelda held Masie back only slightly. "I remember hearing that from you before," she said. "From your teacher, too."

Masie's front right hoof caught Gil in the shoulder and knocked him to the ground. Only reflexes born of years in those barbaric dogies Link told her about allowed him to move aside and prevent Masie from crushing his skull. "I'm trying to prevent bloodshed," he screamed. "Please hear me out!"

Irbe hollered in pain behind her and Zelda spared a glance back. The large captain and the Si'Frant were locked in a hold, both trying to gain dominance over the other. Weapons lay discarded around them. If not for the seriousness of the situation, the image would have been comical.

"Call him off," Zelda commanded.

Gil scrambled back on all fours. "I will if you do the same and listen to me."

Zelda inched Masie forward. "I'm not in the mood to make deals."

"You claim to know my people well enough to hate them," Gil said. "Do you really think I won't die for this?"

Zelda sighed and pulled Masie back. "Stand down, Irbe," she called. "That's an order!" She glanced at Gil expectantly.

"At ease, Vati," Gil said, climbing to his feet.

The Si'Frant backed off immediately but Irbe required another nod of confirmation from Zelda before retreating. Breathing heavily, the Si'Frant shook off the cloak that had become twisted around his frame...and revealed a gray clad body that was decidedly female.

"A woman!" Irbe said in surprise.

Vati smiled at him. "The last man I fought like that ended up lying with me," she said. "Though he put up a much better fight."

Irbe was too stunned to reply.

"You have your time," Zelda said to Gil. "Speak."

Gil squared his shoulders and glanced at Masie before speaking. "Vati here loyal to me, she is one of my people," he began. "You have nothing to fear from her or me. I wish no harm to come to you or your people. In fact, I sought you out to prevent two of your own from being hurt."

"What?" Zelda said sharply. "You captured Impa and Glenn?"

"Not me," Gil quickly corrected. "Those loyal to a Si'Frant called Yin recognized those two as Hylians and attempted to kill them."

"Where are they now?" Irbe asked.

Gil glanced at him, seemingly surprised at his insolence. "At our camp several of your miles from here. Only the spirit shown by the female has kept them alive," he said. "She was poisoned but somehow managed to nullify it. When I left to find you, Yin was trying to decide if he should allow her to enter a dogi so she might die in the Si'Frant way."

Zelda glanced at Vati standing silently beside Irbe, and finally caught what Gil had said about her. "Loyal to you?" she asked. "What happened to the ultra anti-individual rationale that ruled your people?"

Gil scoffed. "You have no idea what has happened to us," he said. "We are fractured like never before. There are those among us that want only vengeance against the Knight of the Triforce, and others that want simply to die in peace. For the past year those fractions have fought each other, but now, with so little time left, we are forced to live in an uneasy truce."

"Why not just go your own way?" Irbe asked. "Seems the simplest answer to me."

Gil turned a dark glare on the captain and his sudden resemblance to Vox gave Zelda a shiver. "Wrong or right, they are my family. The Si'Frant do not turn against family."

Zelda cleared her throat. "Why are you here, Gil? Are you presenting demands or offering help in retrieving my people?"

Gil's expression softened when he turned back to her. "I am here to offer a deal," he said. "Return to the camp with me and convince your people to accept my protection. I offered before I left but they refused. The burly man would only give his rank and some sort of number, and the woman offered several rather graphic descriptions of what I could do with my mother."

"We ain't going anywhere near your camp!" Irbe roared. "You think you could trick us that easily?"

Zelda held up a hand to silence him. "What is this protection you offer?" she asked. "And why do you wish to help?"

"I can have you and your people declared _sin'asi_ to the community—invited visitors. I am the last student of Pav, and few would openly challenge me. Only Yin himself might, but he would not risk his new position of power within the group by losing to me. He knows I will not challenge him, and I am the only one that could match him. His position is secure presently and the desire for the blood of two Hylians is not worth the risk."

"You sound so sure of that."

"I know him." Gil smiled sadly. "He is my brother."

"Of course." Zelda nodded. "You still haven't said why."

"But I have: I am the last student of Pav. The values and goals he stood by until the end of his time live on within me. There is no longer a burning for vengeance in my blood. I have seen so much death in the past few months that even the deaths of those I do not know pains me. You will be safe underneath my order of protection."

Zelda thought for a long moment. She knew Impa would probably tell her to fly past this Si'Frant and continue on to the palace of Thanos, but, Light help her, she sensed truth in Gil's words. Zelda, the one that only a year ago advocated letting the Si'Frant all die, now was ready to take one at his word. 'I have been around Link too long,' she thought ruefully.

"Lead the way," she told Gil.

* * *

The Si'Frant campsite was not nearly as big as Zelda had assumed it to be. She estimated only one hundred to one hundred and thirty gray and dark clad, ashen skinned Si'Frant occupied it.

Tents and simple canopies of canvas thrown over barren trees made up the campsite. Fires burned in small, quickly dug pits throughout the tightly setup encampment. Blue smoke hung low in the air and carried the smells of meat cooking and wood burning.

There were few members of the Si'Frant older than Gil, Zelda noticed as she walked beside him. Irbe, Vati, and the four horses followed several paces behind her. Even fewer were children.

'The young and the infirm,' Zelda thought with a chill working up her arms. The young and the infirm were the first to die. She wondered then just how many Si'Frant had been lost. From the way Gil talked, they were all in this one encampment. Had a nation truly died to only one hundred individuals?

Almost a year ago when the Si'Frant had come to Link looking for help, she had advocated letting them die simply because they were the servants of Jarod. Now, however, the death was visible to her eyes and pungent to her nose. Was this what Link had envisioned when he doubted his decision to force them to create their own destiny?

Not a single Si'Frant rose in opposition to Gil leading her into the heart of their camp. They received more than a few disapproving glares, but none seemed willing to challenge Gil's authority. She wondered how long it would take for the Yin he mentioned to greet them.

Tied with a hemp rope to one of two stakes in the center of the camp, looking a little battered but unhurt, was Glenn Tarmag. Impa stood beside him on the other pole with her hands bound firmly behind her back and a leather cord interlaced between her fingers, keeping them snugly together.

The Sheikah twisted awkwardly to the side to better see. "Zelda!" she exclaimed. "You bloody tobe ticks! If you touch a single hair on her head I'll—"

"Impa!" Zelda's firm voice ended the Sheikah's tirade prematurely. "Quiet before you dig yourself any deeper. I'm here underneath the flag of truce."

"Truce? With the Si'Frant? Are you out of your mind?"

Zelda reached her then. "I'm being creative," she whispered, then, noticing the eyes of the Si'Frant on her, said loudly, "I am here as a _sin'asi_ to Gil and to the community."

A collective gasp went up from the onlookers.

"You are mad!" a voice said from the crowd. "I'll have your blood for this outrage."

For a moment Zelda thought that threat was aimed at her—Irbe did too for he started to reach for his ax—but then saw a Si'Frant slightly shorter and rounder than Gil push to the head of the crowd. He was clad in the same traditional gray tunic, dark trousers, and soft boots as his brothers and sisters, but Canor sand caked his clothes and rips marred them in several places. He carried an air of authority that rivaled Gil's and walked as though every scar and stain were proof of his hard earned influence. Zelda knew without a doubt that this was Yin.

Gil fearlessly stepped forward to meet him. "To take my blood all you must do is call for a challenge," he said with the same air of calm Pav used to have.

"You have called for a challenge by bringing them here." Yin thrust a finger at Zelda and Irbe. "You must submit to my method selection now."

Zelda's gaze tracked between the two Si'Frant as they faced each other. She knew very little about Si'Frant politics, but guessed that Yin had been waiting for Gil to make the first move so he could set the rules of their fight. Rules that would doubtlessly favor Yin.

What Zelda couldn't understand, however, was if Yin disregarded the code of conduct for the Si'Frant so blatantly, why didn't Gil see that as enough reason to overthrow him? She tried judging the physical state of each to determine if Gil could win a fight with Yin.

"I could claim the same," Gil said. "You are the one who brought strangers here first. In fact, when you learned of their presence close to our camp, you sought them out. Then the method selection would be mine." Gil paused just long enough to hold the crowd entranced. "I will not challenge you, though. You are my brother and I will not fight you."

Yin narrowed his eyes. "Not even to protect your _sin'asi_?"

"Again the method selection would be mine," Gil informed him. "You would not do that."

With that sentence Gil came close to calling Yin a coward, and for one long tense moment, Zelda thought Yin would strike Gil right there and forgo the Si'Frant process. Irbe seemed to think the same thing and fingered the haft of his ax, ready to jump in front of Zelda if necessary.

Yin drew a shaky breath and calmed himself. "One day you shall regret your disloyalty, Gil," he said.

Gil leaned in close and spoke just high enough for Yin and Zelda to hear. "Even Pav was not a pacifist, Yin. Try anything and I will kill you. Our training began with Vox but mine was tempered by the wisdom of the greatest Si'Frant to ever live. You could never match the students of Pav.

"Enjoy the power you now possess for none of us are long for this world. Leave me alone, leave my _sin'asi_ alone, and I shall let you have your desired power unchallenged."

Yin held Gil's gaze for a long moment and finally backed off. He turned on his heel and vanished into the crowd. Several members of the Si'Frant broke from the crowd and followed him like pet dogs. Zelda watched as Gil released a deeply held breath and no longer had any question if Gil could best Yin in a fair challenge.

Gil turned his tired gaze to Impa and Glenn. "Do you now believe me?" he asked. "Will you accept my offer of protection?"

The Sheikah and general exchanged a long glance and then nodded in unison.

"Yes."

"Aye."

"Good." Gil signaled Vati to step forward. "Cut them free," he commanded.

Vati drew a knife from her boot and moved to comply.

"You must follow our rules while you are here," Gil warned. "I can only protect you if you stay within the boundaries of Si'Frant law."

"We ain't gonna be here long," Glenn said as Vati's knife sliced without hesitation through his bonds.

"Actually"—Gil turned to Zelda—"I was going to offer Princess Zelda a chance to travel with us."

"What!?" Impa and Irbe said in unison.

"I believe we are traveling to the same destination," Gil said. "With us or not, we are all going to share the same path."

"How do you know where I am traveling to?" Zelda asked.

"You are going to the palace of the Sorcerer Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy," Gil answered knowingly. "A magic is brewing there—even the Si'Frant can feel it—and there is little else you four could travel to this far north."

Zelda nodded thoughtfully. "Pav picked his students well," she said.

"Thank you."

"Can you assure our safety if we agree to travel with you?"

"No safety is absolute," Gil answered. "I can say that Yin is unlikely to harm you or challenge me as the situation stands now. He has his power, his followers, and until his greed grows to the point he will risk challenging me, you and I are safe from him. I can promise that you will be safer with one that was born for this terrain and climate than without.

"Canor is a dangerous land, Your Highness, and I can offer much."

"What happens when Yin's greed does grow?" Irbe asked.

"That shall not happen unless we are successful at Thanos' palace," Gil said. "And since you are going there anyway, that damage will already be done as you Hylians are fond of saying."

Zelda glanced at Vati working to remove the leather cord from Impa's fingers. She made a mental note to ask why Impa's hands were bound so. "Okay," she said returning her attention to Gil. "We'll travel with you."

Gil smiled. "I am glad. It will be nice to share your company; you remind me of Verr and since her death I find myself longing for her sharp mind. If you would follow me, I'll show you to a place where you can make camp."

The last of Impa's bonds came free and she shook them off with a barely audible curse.

"You know, Impa," Zelda said, "it marks a massive break down in the order of things when the one being protected must rescue her guardians."

Impa glared and Glenn scoffed. "We would've escaped," he said indignantly.

"Sure," Vati muttered and followed Gil.

Even Irbe had to smile at that.


	29. Chapter Twenty Five

****

Chapter Twenty Five

Wind whistled past Link as he danced easily to the side. His boots shuffled over the firm ground and loose stones that littered the highlands of the Wasteland of Canor. He pulled his wrists in close and twisted them sharply to the right.

The edge of the Master Sword caught the edge of his attacker's blade and, with another flick of his wrists, sent it wide. Not breaking his momentum, Link ducked and slid in the opposite direction he had sent his opponent's swing. He withdrew his right hand from the hilt of his sword and swung a feint with only his left hand.

Duena's skill had improved greatly since he had first started teaching her swordplay at the Baths. She shuffled backward to avoid the swing, and calmly brought her massive Goron knife about to catch his follow-through.

Link smiled at her and abandoned his planned follow-up. He joined both hands again on the hilt and attacked high.

Duena handled the change of attack smoothly and retreated into her inner zone, her knife tracking the Master Sword all the way. Sparks flashed between them as steel touched steel.

Link spun, shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and came about with a fury of hacks and slashes. This was Duena's weak point, he knew. She had a sharp mind and easily picked up on the basic meet and block forms, but when combat became very heated was when she faltered.

Duena backpedaled, her eyes widening tellingly. He knew she was still not ready for this sort of combat. Link caught her knife with his sword, twisted it left and right, then dropped it and quickly sidestepped. The tip of his blade scraped harmlessly over her exoskeleton. She hissed with the knowledge that he had tricked her and she had failed to track his sword.

Link thought for a moment about ending the duel, but then remembered all the humiliation he suffered at the hands of his sword teachers. On training grounds mistakes could be made and learned from, but not on the real battlefield. There a single mistake could be fatal. A coddled student would never learn the things they needed to know in order to survive a real encounter.

Deciding, however, that prolonged combat would serve little purpose, Link took a step back and allowed her to widen her forms. She again took the outer zone. Her swings were wide and unfocused as she struggled to regain her sense of center.

Link feinted several swings to put her on the defensive and further throw off her attempts to regain her former momentum. He suddenly pivoted on one leg and lashed out with two real strikes, one knee high and other neck high. Duena successfully parried each strike and gained a stronger hold on her outer zone—so she thought anyway.

She fell back on her heels to better defend against his next attack during the two second respite he offered for her to counterstrike. Shaking his head, Link stepped forward and again attacked.

She was too defensive of a fighter, his old teachers would have said. Duena worried too much about stopping the strikes instead of anticipating them and responding before the fact. On the battlefield such hesitation could mean her death or the deaths of innocents around her.

Link opened his attack further to show her the error of allowing an opponent such an opportunity. The Master Sword flashed left and right in the late afternoon sunlight. The clash of blade against blade rung loud and clear and echoed throughout the highlands.

Spinning, he knocked her knife aside with a quick blow from his sword, reached out with his right hand and grabbed her wrist, and slammed the hilt of his sword into her chest. Not hard enough to injure her, but enough to send a message of another give away. She was more than strong enough to push him aside, even if he had used both hands, but his maneuver surprised her too much to respond.

She removed one hand from the hilt of her large knife and tried to grab for his hand as he withdrew it, but he was faster. Link spun around until he was facing her unprotected side, delivered a swift, light kick to the back of her knee, and brought the Master Sword down hard on the tip of her knife.

The knife flew from Duena's hand and she lunged to recapture it before it hit the ground...but stopped when she felt the edge of Link's sword against the hollow of her throat. Even the tough hide of a Goron could not hold back a sharp sword in the hands of a blademaster.

"I yield," she said dejectedly. The knife hit the ground with a dull thud.

Link withdrew his sword and sheathed it. "You did fine," he told her.

"I failed." She hung her head. "Again."

Link shook his head. "You have only been at this for the past few weeks; it took me years to master all the forms and then use them in a proper sequence. Don't forget I have a couple of years on you, Duena.

"Think about what you did wrong, ask any questions you have, and learn for the next time."

"Yes, Link."

"Wow." Qulanda started to clap from the rock she was perched on several paces away from the duelers. "That was amazing."

Link wiped sweat from his brow. "Thank you, Qulanda. You're welcome to join us next time."

She held up her hands. "I don't think so. Archery is easy compared to that blade dancing you talk about."

"Allow me enough time," Link said, "and I'll teach you the dance well enough to pluck an arrow from mid-flight."

"I don't think so," Qulanda said.

Duena's eyes widened with worry. "I hope that is not the next lesson," she said.

"Oh no," Link assured her. "Day after."

Qulanda unfolded her legs from underneath herself and jumped down from the rock perch. "Don't scare people, Link," she admonished. "He's joking."

"Oh!" Duena's shoulders sagged with relief.

Link smiled and ran a hand back through his wet hair. "Is dinner ready, Qulanda?"

"Ready and waiting." She held out a hand, gesturing for him to lead the way back to camp.

In the time since they left the Vless' village, the landscape of Canor had slowly changed. Gone were the barren trees that made up the forest of death; now vast expanses of firm grayish blue land was broken by large boulders, mini avalanches of scree, and hills and inclines that seemed to grow more steep by the day. They were now in the most west and north area of Canor, a place Qulanda had said even the expedition teams never ventured to during the days of Calatia's expansion.

The increasing altitude offered outstanding views of the devastated beauty of the wasteland but also made travel much more treacherous. The horses had to pick their paths much more carefully as did Link and Qulanda. Duena seemed to have a sixth sense for this type of terrain and often had to take point position and lead the group over dangerous ground.

Far to the east and slightly to the north was the edge of a wide lake. Qulanda told them that it was named Lonely Lake for its lack of any drain off. It was a completely independent lake without any connection to the Great Hyrulian Sea or the Werth River.

Even at this great distance, Link could see the crystal clear water that lay so peaceful even the wind couldn't make it ripple. According to his knowledgeable guide, Lonely Lake was, like the outward appearance of the rest of the wasteland, completely barren of any life. No fish swam in the water, no insects used the surrounding wetlands to lay eggs, and no birds dared drink from the unbroken surface. Despite its lovely appearance, Link was content to keep a healthy distance from it.

"You really have come a long way in your training," Qulanda said to Duena as the group walked. "I was impressed."

"Thank you, Qulanda, but I still have much to learn."

"You know the forms," Link said. "It's just seeing the patterns of the battle in your mind."

"Are there some people that cannot see those patterns?" Duena asked.

"Yeah, there are," Link said. "My last apprentice was like that. But you can see them, Duena; I can tell every time we spar. It's just a matter of keeping yourself centered during battle. Don't give into the fear and focus on winning so that you or others will be safe."

"I shall continue to practice, then," Duena said as they reached the campsite.

They had set up camp in a relatively even section of the highlands that had plenty of brown underbrush for the horses to eat. Epona and Avin, both visibly exhausted from the day's climb, were already sitting with their long legs tucked underneath their bodies at the perimeter of the camp. Qulanda had removed both their tacks and brushed them down, Link noted with a nod of approval. How far his guide had come since he met her in Visola.

In the center of the rocky landing was a small fire with a pot of bubbling stew heating over it. Beside the fire were their bedrolls, already laid out. Link planned on an early start tomorrow and had insisted—as always—that the camp was completely set up before taking Duena aside for her lesson.

Link's stomach growled at the wonderful smell of the hot stew. He walked to their saddlebags, retrieved two bowls, and returned to the fire. As he dished out two large portions for Qulanda and himself, Duena withdrew three stones the size of the Knight's fist from a sack the Vless had given her.

"How many of those good rocks do you have left?" Qulanda accepted a bowl and spoon from Link. "Thank you."

"Only enough for two more meals," the Goron answered. "I shall ration them."

Link finished dishing out his portion from the pot then removed the stew from the fire. There was still enough for another meal for the two Hylians. Duena wasn't the only one rationing food. Game was scarce this far north and Link didn't want to take the time for a long hunting side trip.

Sitting back on his heels, Link noticed Qulanda from the corner of his vision as she held the bowl up slightly, closed her eyes, and breathed a prayer.

He waited until he was sure she was finished then said, "You do that every night. Is it a ceremony that you can share with us?"

"It is a benediction of thanks for the food and an expressed wish for future blessings," Qulanda said. "But your faith is not that of mine. Why would you wish to take part?"

"Whether you look to goddesses, spirits of light, or to your own heart," he said, "it's important to believe in something. Sometimes the simple act of a ceremony can lift the spirits of the suppliant.

"Does my faith or lack thereof exclude me from taking part?" There was no mockery in his tone as he genuinely asked. Duena watched the exchange with interest. She had yet to eat her stones.

"Of course not," Qulanda said with a smile. "Just follow me."

She held her bowl up again, a little higher this time, and spoke, "Holy Spirits of Light, we thank you for another day free from harm and pain. We thank you for the time to enjoy this peaceful meal together within your holy testing land. We request continued blessings in our travels tomorrow and beyond.

"For this I pray."

"For this I pray," Link and Duena intoned, slightly out of sync.

Qulanda smiled again. "It's been a long time since I last shared evening prayers with anyone."

"Penda?" Duena asked.

The guide nodded. "Yes."

"What will you do when this trip is complete?" Link asked her. "Will you go after Penda?"

Qulanda absently stirred her stew. "I have long dreamed of journeying to Cape Town and finding her," she said. "It is not the idea of traveling that stops me, however—I would crawl on my belly through the entire realm of the Boonja just to see her again—but the lack of money.

"Cape Town is not an easy community to survive in. I have several contacts there that have been looking for information, but they and many others there work only for bribes. I spent all the money I borrowed from that bad man in Visola just trying to find someone that knew Penda."

Link nodded and slowly ate his stew. He thought about the day that was quickly approaching when he and his group would disband after ending this Duncan affair one way or another, and made up his mind about something he had been considering for a while regarding Qulanda.

They ate in relative silence with only Duena's mighty jaws crushing her meal of stones to digestible powder breaking the quiet. After dinner, when the sun had set and twilight was quickly darkening to full night, Link built up the fire as Qulanda readied herself for sleep.

"The warriors of my tribe have a tradition," Duena said tentatively. "They believe that on the cusp of a battle, the fighters must confess their fears so that they may be fearless and joined spiritually with their comrades in battle."

She glanced at Link and Qulanda. "I feel that we are close to our destination and I wish to follow that tradition before the situation changes and we must act promptly."

Link and Qulanda shared a glance and then gathered again around the fire. "Go ahead, Duena," he said.

"My greatest fear is that I shall not perform as I must when either of you need me," she confessed. "I have watched both of you perform marvelous feats when you were forced to in order to survive. I feel that the time for me to add to the group is approaching and I fear not being ready."

Save for the popping of the rotted wood in the fire, the camp was dead quiet. Link leaned over to the Goron and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You have already contributed much to our group," he said. "But if there is still more required of you, I have no doubt that you would do whatever you had to for us."

Duena nodded but did not look wholly convinced.

"My fears are similar," Qulanda said. "But in a different context. People raised me to believe that the wasteland is an area for people to test themselves in. It is difficult and challenging to make stronger the people who would dare traverse it. For a long time now I have questioned if I have it inside of me to face the true challenges of Canor.

"Boonja aside, there are many challenges here that cannot be seen but must be experienced. I have asked myself many times if I didn't harden myself to those challenges, but trained myself to find a way around them.

"When the time comes, will I stay and fight or run?"

Duena and Qulanda glanced expectantly at Link.

He smiled slightly and said, "Where do you want me to begin? I fear many things, and over the past year have taken even more on to worry about. Lately, however, I think about what I'll do when I meet Duncan again.

"It's been almost four years since I last saw him, and in that time he has done things I never thought him capable of doing. He has betrayed, cheated, maybe even killed. Now I have learned that the magic he uncovered is removable only by killing the host.

"I don't think I have it inside of me to kill Duncan if he won't listen to reason." Link watched the flames dance in the circle of stones. "I have come so far in a short amount of time, questioned who I am, what I felt, but never stopped to consider what I would do at the end of the road.

"The end is in sight, and so is Duncan, but I have no idea what to do next. Duncan may yet win because I don't know how to stop him."

Now it was Duena's turn to touch his shoulder. Qulanda's hand quickly followed on the other side. "Whatever happens, Link," Qulanda said, "you won't have to face Duncan alone. We'll be there with you and any decisions will be ours, not yours."

He smiled again at how far they had all come. "You know, in Visola I didn't want either of you along on this trip. I was running blind and didn't want the grounding you both offered. Now, I can't imagine making this journey without either of you by my side."

"We shall end this together," Duena said.

* * *

The next day brought two very important discoveries. The first came a little after dawn as the three travelers were clearing the top of a steep rise. To either side the rolling land of the highlands opened up in dips and crests of earth that looked like waves of water that had been frozen in mid tide. Rocks and scree littered the blue-gray landscape for as far as the eye could see. The western edge of Lonely Lake continued its arcing course to the north ahead of them.

"Do you see that?" Duena asked, looking out at the expanse of the lowlands still visible from their vantagepoint.

"What?" Link looked in the direction she indicated and squinted.

"Those herds of boars Qulanda mentioned," the Goron said. "I see several of them, all running away from here."

Link looked carefully where she pointed and saw at least eight herds of boarlike creatures, each miles apart, all moving decidedly away from the highlands. Clouds of gray sand rose from their hooves as they quickly moved over the smooth land.

"Birds, too," he said, pointing. Flying southward from the area of Lonely Lake were large flocks of featherless birds with wide wingspans. "Any ideas, Qulanda? Qulanda?" Link turned and saw his guide several paces away digging fervently in the dirt with only her hands.

Link glanced at Duena, shrugged, and then walked to Qulanda. "What's wrong?"

Qulanda didn't answer for a long moment, then she jumped back and said, "There!"

From the hole she had dug came a fast moving chain of chitter bugs. They, too, were moving straight to the south and seemed surprisingly undisturbed to have their tunnel uprooted. Several climbed over Qulanda's boots without slowing in their escape from the north.

"The insects, too?" Link asked. "Why?"

"The insects, birds, hogs, sandrays, dactlis, snakes, and every other type of living creature capable of travel," she confirmed.

"Again: why?"

Qulanda shrugged. "I don't know, but I have heard of this happening before." She glanced down at the chain of bugs still moving without any fear of the Hylians and Goron standing above them. "Legend says that just before the coming of the devastation that turned Canor into a wasteland all the animals fled."

"Where are they all running to?"

"They aren't running _to_ anywhere, Duena," Qulanda said. "They're running away from something."

As one Link, Duena, and Qulanda turned to look to the north.

* * *

The next discovery happened late in the day when they cleared the final rise in the mouth of the highlands and the land leveled off to a gradual climb upward instead of the up and down nature of the hills and shallows.

All three spotted it at the same time, and even the horses came to an immediate halt as though the manse in front of them awed them, too. It was still far away but was large enough to make out details even at a distance.

Before them was a fortress built of impenetrable looking black marble buffed to an indigo like shine that was untouched by the rigors of the weather. Walls encircled the main keep, but the lack of watchtowers or other obvious fortifications indicated they were only for show. The former occupant of that castle had little need for traditional defenses. That fact alone was a testament to the power commanded by the fortress' builder during that dark time so long ago.

The keep was a massive spire that stretched far into the sky. It was, Link reflected while staring at it, like a perverse version of the Tower of Magic. He doubted that resemblance was a coincidence.

Five small freestanding columns rose from the top of the large tower like a dark interpretation of a temple's steeple. From his vantagepoint, Link thought those columns almost looked like a hand stretching into the sky above the main castle. Maybe that, too, wasn't a coincidence—a clear message to those that dared look upon the fortress' occupant as an equal.

Before them lay the palace of the Necromancer Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy.


	30. Chapter Twenty Six

****

Chapter Twenty Six

Zelda pulled her cloak tighter at her throat and glanced to the ominous looking clouds hanging heavy overhead. She had seen enough winters to recognize snow clouds and did not like what she now saw. Winter was still weeks away in Hyrule, but this far north, she knew, winter and the first snowfall came early.

Days had passed in a whirlwind since she had agreed to follow the Si'Frant as they marched northward. Gil had told them of the desperation felt by the Si'Frant to reach the Eye of Thanos and find someway to command its magic to repair their broken bond to the imprisoned Si'Ra, and Zelda saw that desperation expressed in their daily travel.

The Si'Frant did not stop for rest or even to eat during the day. An hour before daybreak they were marching in a direction that seemed to call to them, and they did not halt that steady trek until well after night had fallen. Stopping to catch one's breath or even to relieve oneself only resulted in more work to catch up with the group. They moved in one long sinuous line across the Wasteland of Canor by day and set up an orderly campsite within minutes of stopping for night.

There was no unnecessary talking during that set up time. People moved like gears in the wind-up timepieces the master craftsmen had built for Hyrule Castle as they went about chores that had been assigned to them from those in charge of the Si'Frant.

The social structure of the Si'Frant was strange and complex, but Zelda was beginning to understand its basic elements. In the absence of Pav during his visit to Link in Hyrule, several cliques had formed in the ranks of the Si'Frant. Upon his return, Pav selected not to challenge those cliques as had been his right; nor did he settle the disputes that increased the chasms between the vying groups.

Once Pav had died and his heir apparent had left the Si'Frant, Yin and his followers had assumed unchallenged leadership over the Si'Frant. He encouraged this expedition to find the Eye of Thanos and gained even more followers because of it. Gil had not challenged Yin because he could offer no better future than dying in the Chamber of Tears to a people trained since birth to never stop fighting. Gil was, from what Zelda understood, actually holding the Si'Frant together by not challenging Yin. Fractured they would wander off and die without purpose and alone; this way they died together with a goal in sight.

Both choices sounded horrible to Zelda, but she did understand Gil's mindset.

"You are thinking of home?" a voice asked beside her.

Zelda jumped and turned to the person next to her. It was Gil. He stood calmly holding a plate in one hand. "Sorry," she said. "It's easy to forget how silently you people move."

He raised his pale eyebrows in surprise. "We do? I never considered that before. I apologize if I frightened you." He offered her the plate. "I know you normally eat from your own supplies, but I thought you might like some of our food."

A diplomatic smile came to Zelda's face without conscious effort. "I would love to try your food, thank you." A grimace pulled slightly at that smile when she saw several cooked beetles the size of her fist on the plate. "Oh."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no." Zelda called upon years of diplomatic training and reached for one of the beetles. Her fingers found a purchase along its shell and she pulled a blackened wing off, exposing pink meat. She scooped out a large portion, sent silent warning to her stomach to not pick this time to betray her, and ate it. The meat lacked seasoning but didn't taste bad, though it was not something Zelda would want a steady diet of.

"Do you like it?" Gil asked.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "It tastes like cucco."

"Really? I've never had that."

Zelda flicked a piece of beetle from underneath her chipped fingernail. "Well, if you ever visit Hyrule again, I shall introduce you to some of our foods."

Gil's jovial expression waned. "I don't think that is likely, Princess, but thank you for the offer."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them. Zelda glanced back to the cloud canopy and said, "You mentioned something about home before?"

"You appeared to be thinking of your home," Gil answered. "Something in your eyes, a longing, made me think your mind was on Hyrule."

Zelda smiled—genuine this time—and said, "I _was_ thinking of home. I was thinking about how fast winter seems to come on up here. In Hyrule, the cold season is still weeks away."

"That is hard to believe." Gil shook his head at the wonderment of it. "Your summer is so long—it must seem abnormal."

"It's what I was born knowing," Zelda said. "I never thought about it before now. The calendar was the calendar and that was that. I guess one's perception of normal is fluid."

Gil's eyes were shaded by the failing afternoon light, but Zelda felt his gaze touch hers. "Exactly, Highness."

Gooseflesh ran down Zelda's arms. "You led me to say that, didn't you? A message?"

"A message can only be sent if there is a receptor for it," Gil said cryptically. "You still look at our differences and see yourself as being in the right."

"You don't do the same?"

Gil shrugged. "Some Si'Frant do that, yes, but this ailment has taught many others to see similarities instead of differences."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"We are not as different as you would like to believe, Princess Zelda."

Zelda shook her head. "Our philosophies are too far apart to ever be more than just traveling companions. Friendship cannot exist without trust, and after what I saw during Pav's visit to Hyrule, I could never fully trust you."

"How odd that the Knight forgave us, in his own way, but you still cannot."

"I'm not Link," Zelda said. "He and I do not always see eye to eye on matters of forgiveness of evil. Link believes that good exists in everyone, and that forgiveness is the key to unlocking that good. I have seen men corrupted by pure evil. There is no room for good in the hearts of some. In those instances, the evil must be destroyed for the greater good."

Gil thought for a moment. "Would you walk with me, Highness?"

"Where?"

"Not far—just deeper into the camp. The Si'Frant camp."

Zelda nodded. "Lead the way."

Gil led her past the canvas tents he had provided for her and the rest of the party, past several Si'Frant walking the perimeter of their campsite, past large fires with more beetles cooking on stones placed in the blaze and slabs of sandray roasting on spits. Finally, after several minutes of walking, they turned a corner and came to a town square of sorts in the center of the site.

There, ropes tied to posts driven into the sandy ground closed an area about ten feet by twenty from the rest of the camp. Si'Frant clustered around the boundaries, watching and cheering what was happening inside the arena.

Zelda stood on her toes to better see, and saw Impa slowly circling a Si'Frant in the center of the roped off space. Moving at unnatural speed, she lunged forward and swung a fist at her opponent's neck. The Si'Frant responded and easily turned away the blow. He riposted by lashing out in two quick chops. Impa deflected one chop but took a brushing blow from the second.

Pivoting sharply on one leg, the Sheikah snapped a sidekick at the Si'Frant that caught him square in the chest. Zelda heard the air leave his lungs in a whoosh. He stumbled back and fell to the ground. Impa, dark enjoyment dancing in her eyes, pursued him. The Si'Frant leaned into his momentum, let his legs come over his head, and rolled onto his feet.

Zelda turned to Gil as the sound of grunting continued from the arena. "What is this?" she demanded, already knowing the answer.

Gil looked at her calmly. "A makeshift dogi," he answered.

"I thought you said we would be safe as your _sin'asi_!"

"You are." Gil gestured to Impa. "She accepted the opportunity to fight in our dogi."

Zelda glanced back to the combat. Impa once again had a decided advantage over her opponent. "Is she fighting to the death?" The princess braced herself for an affirmative answer.

Gil laughed. "No, Your Highness. Despite what you think of us, we do not always fight to the death. In its most basic meaning, dogi translates to 'training room.' Your people were offered by the Si'Frant an opportunity to learn from us, just as we learn from them. That is the secret of the dogi: each challenger brings something uniquely his or her own to the circle. By acknowledging this, we are better served and the fallen are honored."

Zelda shook her head. "If the gifts of individuals are honored, then why does your culture teach that only the community is important? Your way, from what I have seen of it, says that an individual life is nothing in light of the greater whole."

"The greater whole is constructed of individuals," Gil said. "We have not forgotten that."

"You may not have forgotten it, but you choose not to acknowledge it," Zelda countered. "You place a higher honor on following blind orders and dying for what you are told is a noble cause rather than focusing on the gift of simply being alive. You have abandoned the gift of life for the hope of a meaningful death."

Gil smiled slightly. "Despite the differences between our peoples, Your Highness, I am heartened by the fact some of us shall live on in your people." Coming from Pav or Vox, that sentence would have sent chills down Zelda's spine, but from Gil it simply sounded like wistful musings from a dying man.

"In Impa, you mean?"

"In the Sheikah, in your General Tarmag, and in your Captain Irbe. The offer was made to all your fellow travelers, Princess Zelda."

Frowning, Zelda turned and swept her gaze over the crowd. At the far side of the arena, she saw Glenn watching the combat. With his face showing discomfort, Glenn slowly rubbed his left wrist.

"Vati," Gil supplied the answer to her unspoken question. "She did not injure him seriously. He will be well by morning. To do anything more, to a _sin'asi_ or member of the community, is against our way. Unless formally challenged, all combatants must stop short of permanent damage or at first blood. We are not animals, Princess."

"You must be proud of her."

Gil looked at Zelda with genuine puzzlement. "I am proud of Vati as a Si'Frant, yes. She is of a strong clan and is a great servant to the community. Should I be proud she bested your general? They faced each other in fair combat. I would feel no different if he had bested her."

Zelda gave him a look. "You seriously mean that there isn't a small part within you that enjoyed seeing a Hylian fall to a Si'Frant?"

With a loud round of applause, the combat in the arena ended. Impa and the Si'Frant stood three paces apart, bowed, and then walked to the sidelines together. The Si'Frant had blood running down his face from a broken nose...and sported a wide smile.

The gathered crowd began breaking into small groups. Several wandered into the dogi and began sparing lightly with each other. It seem suddenly informal after Impa and the Si'Frant's battle. Zelda wondered if Impa's was the only one against one match they would have, or if they were simply giving the Sheikah time to ready herself for another round.

"Your Sheikah received praise from us," Gil said. "Not because she is a _sin'asi_, but because she fought better. She honored her opponent by teaching him. That is the pact of the dogi. Training is not warfare. It is a Hylian custom to personalize such things; not the Si'Frant way."

Zelda spotted Irbe standing across from Glenn in the dogi. Beside the captain was a young Si'Frant, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. She barely rose to his chest, but carried herself with an air of calm and assurance that spoke of years in training. Slowly, Irbe followed her movements as she led him through a series of holds and stances.

"Kella is the last of her clan," Gil said, meaning the girl. "Her entire clan has fallen to the sickness. The community has taken her in and offered her love and care. For good or ill, no matter what you believe, the Si'Frant serves the community and in turn the community serves us. Your way of individual responsibility would do what for that child? Force her to care for herself?"

"In time, yes," Zelda said. "A family would be found for her in the meantime. My way is not heartless, Gil. There are always exceptions."

"Yes, there is," he agreed. "Your people call it the line between good and evil."

Vati emerged from the crowd and, seeing Gil, started for him. She stopped short when she caught sight of Zelda. Bowing slightly, she backed away.

Zelda glanced between Vati and Gil. Something unspoken passed between the two Si'Frant. Vati bowed again and vanished into the crowd.

"The _ren'izeen_ is no longer without the holder of the Criv to oversee it," Gil explained seeing Zelda's confused expression. "Due to the lack of a breeding order, we are...left to our own devices. She wishes me; I wish her." The student of Pav flushed an almost normal shade of olive.

"The 'breeding order.'" Zelda fought back a grimace. "Well, I'm happy for you, Gil. If you wish to go to her, I can find my way back to my camp without help."

Gil tipped his head at her. "Are you certain? You do not wish to discuss the dogi or the ways of the Si'Frant any longer?"

Zelda gave him a tight-lipped smile. "What do you hope to gain from this? You are not going to convert me; nor I you. What's the purpose?"

"Some times there is no purpose," Gil said. "In those times, we must simply create our own. A wise man once taught me that. Teaching is the point of the dogi, Princess. I hope you and I have both learned something this evening."

Zelda realized that provoking a debate had been Gil's point for showing her the dogi all along. He had sparred with her in the dogi, if only rhetorically and not physically.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening, Your Highness," Gil said before she could open her mouth. "I shall." And with that, he was gone, slipping silently into the crowd and vanishing.

Feeling like he'd played her for a fool, Zelda glanced about and debated returning to her camp. Her gaze came to a rest on Glenn and she decided to wait with him for Irbe and Impa to finish in the dogi. It would feel good to be around a familiar face.

Glenn moved to stand when he saw her approach but Zelda waved him back down. She didn't wait for an invitation and sat beside him.

"They brought ya, too, huh?"

Zelda nodded. "Gil found me and wanted to spar."

Glenn glanced up in surprise. "Spar?"  
"Verbally," she said. "The most dangerous kind of sparring."

"Oh." He rubbed his wrist again. "I dunno. When I was thirty years younger, I would have taken this whole lot o' buggers. Now, I was thrown around by a wee lass." He shook his head and sighed.

"It could have been worse." Zelda pointed to Irbe. "You could have been thrown around a fifteen year old girl." As if on cue, Kella touched a pressure point in Irbe's shoulder and brought him to his knees, crying out in pain.

Glenn chuckled. "There is that."

They watched in silence as Irbe picked himself up off the ground and again squared his stance. Like a master teacher, Kella tapped her chin in thought for a moment and then held her hands out.

Irbe grabbed her outstretched hands, keeping his thumbs pointed down toward her fingers so she couldn't twist her hands away from him. In a blink, Kella had slipped from his hold, twisting inward instead of out, moved around his back, and held his left hand firmly by the wrist. If she wanted, she could snap his wrist effortlessly—she had leverage that even his superior height and weight couldn't overpower.

"He's focusin' too much on his higher center o' gravity," Glenn said. "She's smaller and lighter and is usin' that against him."

Zelda watched Irbe for several more moments. "He's your replacement, isn't he?" she asked finally. "He told me that you have big plans for him. Have you been grooming him to take over as Captain of the Hylian Guard?"

"Someday," Glenn answered. "He's still got a long way to go—and so do I," he added.

Zelda nodded and kept her gaze forward. She couldn't imagine palace life without Glenn commanding the army. He had been an adviser to the crown since she was a little child. For years he had held the reins of the military. Despite knowing better, she always thought of Glenn as a permanent piece of Hyrule, something that would never go away or change.

"That's why you have been working to get him into the royal court," Zelda surmised.

"Aye."

"When we get back to Hyrule," she said, "I'll sign an order reestablishing the position of Royal Guard. He'll have to build a staff, you know. A detail that is separate from the rest of the palace guard. Do you think he can handle it?"

"Aye. Captain Irbe's a good man. Ya'll teach him what he needs to know just like yer father taught me."

Zelda couldn't hold back a smile at that. A circle unbroken. She glanced at Glenn and saw a couple of new gray hairs in his beard and temples that she hadn't notice before.

"I forgot to congratulate ya," Glenn said after a time. "'Bout Link, I mean. I'm happy for ya, Zelda."

"Thank you."

Glenn sighed again. "Ya are still young, Zelda. Enjoy yer time with him 'cause it can end faster than ya think. In one instant it all can end." He looked away and his eyes lost focus. "Thirty years ago that's what happened to me. I had somethin' wonderful and watched it slip away. Her name was Isobel and I pulled her away from the Iron Fist when we was in Calatia. Yer mother and I thought..." He caught himself and trailed off.

'The Iron Fist?' Zelda wondered. What had her captain of the guard been doing with that Calatian trade organization? And with her mother? She decided to check the records back home because something in Glenn's tone told her he would offer nothing more. She would have to uncover that story another time.

Together they sat in silence and watched as Irbe and Kella continued to spar.

* * *

"Link!" Qulanda's voice rang out. "I need help!"

Sleep was gone in an instant and the Knight of the Triforce was on his feet in a blink. Reality tilted dangerously for a moment then straightened. "Duena!" he called.

"I am awake," the Goron groggily replied, climbing to her feet and reaching for her large knife.

Link ran a hand back through his hair and started for Qulanda's watch point located several yards from the camp's edge. It seemed like only moments ago she had relieved him from watch duty, but the telltale brightness in the east said it was at least an hour or more. His left hand came to an easy rest on the hilt of the Master Sword as he quickly walked to her. Behind him, Duena followed while strapping on her knife.

The sky was bright enough to illuminate the ground around the camp, but Qulanda held a makeshift torch she now wielded like a weapon. In her other hand she held her fully loaded and ready to fire crossbow.

Link stepped into the sphere of flickering orange light given off by the quickly burning branch, and immediately saw what had caused her alarm. "Oh my," he said.

"Yeah," she said, not taking her gaze off it. "Any ideas?"

The beast was hairless with leathery gray skin. A whiplike tail with a pointed end swung lazily as the beast sniffed the ground. It was huge, easily five feet tall at the shoulder, with muscular hind legs for jumping and running swiftly and smaller forelegs sporting deadly looking dewclaws. Its head was hideously malformed. Two slanted eyes glowed red from underneath a bony ridge that worked its way up the thing's forehead before jutting outward in two sharp horns. Hot breath clouded in the cold air as the beast exhaled from a pig like snout. Worst of all, two leathery wings lay folded against its back.

Link swallowed past a dry throat. "What is it?"

Qulanda shook her head. "I've never seen anything like this before," she said. "Never even heard anyone mention something like this."

"It is a garjo," Duena said coming up behind them. "Servants of evil. My people speak of them, but even the bravest of our warriors have never encountered one."

"Well, now you have a story for home," Link said. "Let's all just back away and maybe it'll fly off."

"The legends say once one has the scent of you, it will never stop until you burn its bones."

"Isn't that encouraging," Qulanda said dryly. "I vote we try Link's idea first."

The Goron nodded and as one the group stepped back. They paused to see if the garjo would have a reaction, then took another step.

The garjo suddenly rounded on them and roared. Link felt gooseflesh pass down his arms at that roar. It was too reminiscent of the Boonja's cry for comfort. Qulanda raised her crossbow and took aim. The garjo started coming toward them. Its eyes were alive with a predatory gleam. Air whistled around the garjo's tail as it swung back and forth.

"Shoot, Qulanda," Link commanded.

Without hesitation, the guide pulled the release and the bolt left the weapon. The garjo was faster though. It jumped straight up into the air and the quarrel bounced harmlessly off its dewclaw.

It came down in a crouch as Qulanda reached into her quiver for another bolt. It roared and launched itself again into the air...this time coming at Link and the rest of the group. It hit several paces in front of them, jumped again, and held its claws extended.

"Swords!" Link heard his voice say as he raced forward, drawing the Master Sword. Seconds stretched into hours. Instinctively, he knew Duena was right on his heels, knife at the ready. He dropped to his knees and swung his sword in a wide arc.

The blade of legend met the creature in mid-flight. The razor-sharp edge entered its body just below the shoulders. Duena's blade was only a heartbeat behind his. Together the two weapons tore through the garjo, spraying blood and gore across the hilltop. The creature's roar ended with a sudden yelp and its jump went askew.

Time snapped back to normal for Link and he heard the wet clop of the now bisected garjo hit the ground behind him. Hot blood stained his tunic.

"Oh my dear Spirits," Qulanda gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth. The smell of decay that always permeated the wasteland tripled in intensity around the dead animal. Black blood and viscera stained the grayish dirt.

Link watched with a grimace as parts of the garjo twitched reflexively, as though its spirit was trying to return to its destroyed body to seek vengeance against its killers. "Why haven't we seen these things before?" he asked.

"Legends say that the garjo can only be called forth by a great power," Duena said. "Their home is in the shadowlands between this world and the underworld."

Link's gaze turned to the home of the necromancer in front of them. "Perfect."

"It's an animal, though," Qulanda said. "Why didn't it flee to the south like all the others?"

"Perhaps this creature is the reason the others fled," Duena said.

No one had anything to add to that ominous statement.

* * *

Duncan Azar stood in front of the old throne in Thanos' palace. Gripping the glowing Eye of Thanos in one hand, Duncan walked to the edge of parapet and gazed down at the massive throne room with new sighted eyes.

The Necromancer Ossie, one of the most powerful wizards of the last several centuries, had inflicted his blindness, but with the Eye of Thanos it had been easy to dispel the spell. For the first time in forty years, Duncan could again see. He had left his walking stick, once a treasure from his beloved sister but now a reminder of his failures and weaknesses, far behind. It could rot, for all he cared.

He drew upon all the training he received after the Tower of Magic and cast his awareness far outside the palace walls. As easy as knowing where his left hand was at any given time, Duncan could sense Link and his companions growing closer.

The Eye of Thanos whispered a warning in Duncan's mind. It, too, could sense the Knight of the Triforce and feared for its survival. The Eye was possessive and paranoid. It did not want to die.

Duncan did not need eyes or enhanced senses to tell that shadows were forming into a very distinctive shape behind him. As always, it hovered just behind the throne. The shade of Thanos. Duncan, through the Eye, now had a greater appreciation for what Ossie had discovered in that monastery forty years ago. Like the master wizard, Duncan now understood how Thanos had survived his duel with the Si'Ra.

Ignoring Thanos, Duncan continued to gaze down at the throne room. Plans for Link and whispering from the Eye buzzed continually in his brain. Power crackled through his body. He would try to spare Link, but knew that if the Knight did not back away, the Eye of Thanos would kill him.

Below the high platform that housed the throne, teemed hundreds of garjos, all eager to attack whomever their master commanded. Duncan hoped in the tiny corner of his mind the Eye had left for him to house his sanity, that he was the master of the guardians of the temple and not Thanos.


	31. Chapter Twenty Seven

****

Chapter Twenty Seven

The looming presence of Thanos' palace grew larger as Link, Qulanda, and Duena pushed on. The rough terrain of the highlands of Canor slowly leveled out and became the remains of an old road. Probably built during Thanos' rule, the stone road wound through the highlands to the palace. Worn wagon treads were visible through a light dusting of snow covering the ground.

Epona and Avin seemed greatly relieved to again be on smooth terrain. Link and Qulanda gladly rode again now that they didn't have to worry about one of the horses falling and breaking a leg. Though it was a small victory against the harsh elements, both Hylians celebrated the return of a familiar sight of civilization. Seemingly unaffected by it all, Duena kept steady pace beside the two mares.

Then, three days after starting up the old road, they reached the entrance to the palace of Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy.

Link gazed up at the tall watchnests at the tops of the dark walls as they rode through the open gates. The gates were reinforced with iron and, aside from touches of rust on hinges larger than Duena was tall, appeared in surprisingly good condition.

Once past the walls, Link glanced back and saw chain pulleys used to open and close the gates. The stations to control those were also in fine condition and were large enough to house more than ten men apiece.

Long abandoned wagons, tack for horses, metal tools, and wicker baskets lay strewn about the courtyard. Fountains, some big enough for several horses to drink from at once, still amazingly had water standing in their basins. It was as though at the moment of Thanos' death two thousand years ago all time had stopped. If not for the absence of people, Link could easily assume that this palace was operational.

"Holy Spirits," Qulanda breathed. "This place is a mausoleum."

"It is eerily calm," Duena agreed. "I had not expected a place quite like this."

A sudden neigh from behind caused all of them to jump. Qulanda spun on her saddle, her crossbow at the ready.

Link stopped her with a raised hand. "Easy, Qulanda." The Knight looked at the bareback horse that had startled them. It was a shaggy brown gelding trotting happily to them. He seemed overjoyed at the sight of another living being.

Link dismounted and met the gelding. He laughed when the horse nudged against his shoulder in an animal version of a hug. "Are you Hard Biscuit, boy?"

"You know this beast?" Duena asked.

Link let Hard Biscuit sniff his hand, then reached around and scratched behind the horse's ears. "No, but I think this is the horse Duncan stole from Impa."

Qulanda lowered the crossbow and glanced nervously about the courtyard. "Then that means he is indeed here." She drew a deep breath and dismounted as well.

With Hard Biscuit close behind, Link walked back to Epona. The opinionated mare and happy gelding sniffed one another and each seemed to find the other agreeable. "We should remove their saddles," he said to Qulanda. "I don't know how long we're going to be in there."

Qulanda agreed and went about removing Avin's tack while Link handled Epona's. They piled the gear underneath a nearby wagon and covered the tacks with saddle blankets to keep the weather from touching them.

"Keep Avin and Hard Biscuit safe, baby," Link said to Epona, then turned toward the keep. Duena and Qulanda followed only a step behind him.

Hard Biscuit moved to follow them but Epona stepped in front of him and nickered. There was little question who was in charge in that group of three horses.

A staircase of thirteen wide steps led to the entrance of the keep. Set on twin pillars beside the lower landing were two garjos made of stone. Their wings swept up and back, horns held low, and fangs bare for the world to see they were a fearsome sight. Along the walls of the keep were similarly well-crafted grotesques, but not another garjo.

Link, Duena, and Qulanda gave the garjos a wide berth as they climbed to the heavily reinforced wooden doors leading to the keep. Qulanda checked the bolt loaded in her crossbow, Duena drew her knife, but Link left the Master Sword sheathed at his side. He led the group up the stairs.

They reached the upper landing and, with a hopeful glance back, Link tried the gold handgrips on the heavy doors. The doors didn't move. "Duncan may not have had the strength to close the gates," he said, "but he could bolt the doors. Duena?"

The Goron stepped up, took a deep breath, and threw herself against the doors. The wood buckled slightly and the doors rattled noisily. She drew back and slammed into the doors again, again, and finally they gave way. They swung inward and hit the marble walls of the keep.

Link patted her shoulder. "Nicely done." He stepped around the splitters of wood and entered the palace.

"Are you okay?" Qulanda asked.

Duena hefted her knife. "Of course." She followed Link inside.

"Wow," Link said, turning slowly about and taking in the overly extravagant entrance hall.

The rotunda shaped hall stretched in all directions for tens of yards. Five archways were located throughout the chamber with stairways ascending and descending deeper into the keep in four of them. Spells written in Old Hylian were gilded in gold leaf on the marble floor from one end of the chamber to the other. It was a Hylian custom to have spells of good fortune or protection embroidered on a carpet or tapestry and to then display it in a home's entranceway, but Link had never seen so many spells drawn in one room. He couldn't read the language of the spells, but did see Thanos' name prominently featured in almost all of them.

In the center of the room was the obvious showcase. Towering almost to the ceiling of the tall hall was a smooth marble likeness of Thanos himself. Clad in flowing necromancer robes made of the same black marble that formed the rest of the palace, the statue stood with one hand extended and the other at his side grasping a wand. His jaw was strong and covered with a thin beard. Veins and tendons stood out in his hands and neck. Preserved perfectly in that gaudy work of art was Thanos' arrogance and self-worth.

"Wow," Link said again, gazing at the statue. "That is one man that loved himself."

Qulanda nodded. "I'm guessing several times a day."

Duena gestured to the descending stairways. "How are we ever going to find one Hylian in this palace? It extends below ground as well."

"We found him in the vast Wasteland of Canor, didn't we?" Link took a step forward. "Perhaps the direct way would be best? Duncan!" His voice echoed up and down the entrance hall.

The three travelers exchanged a glanced then repeated the call in unison: "Duncan!"

Silence hung heavy after the echo died.

"You want to take the ground level while Duena and I search below ground?" Qulanda suggested.

Link shook his head. "I don't want to split up here. We're as good as dead if that happens."

"Well, then we could—"

"You shouldn't have come," a gravel like voice put in. Duncan's voice. "You should have stayed away, Link."

The Knight of the Triforce stepped forward, his sword rolling on his hip as he did so. "Duncan? Come out and we'll talk!"

"Leave here, Link," the voice continued. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you try to stop me."

"You know I can't do that, Duncan. The Eye of Thanos is too dangerous for one person to possess. Give it up before any more damage is done."

Duncan gave a low chuckle that the echo didn't pick up. "You know that is not possible, my boy. The Eye of Thanos can only be taken by one way."

Link frowned. He did indeed know that. "Could you pinpoint that laugh?" he whispered.

Qulanda nodded and pointed toward the center archway, the only one without a stairwell. "It came from in there."

Link cleared the Master Sword in its scabbard and started for the archway. Holding their weapons at the ready, Qulanda and Duena followed close behind.

They walked around the wide base of the statue and passed underneath the archway. Beyond was another hall, this one much smaller and narrower than the entrance hall. Paintings, also well preserved, of Thanos lined the walls. It reminded Link of the Hall of Heroes in Hyrule Castle; the artwork here, however, was laughably self-stylized. They depicted Thanos in his necromancer's attire, a uniform of some undeterminable military rank, and in the flowing white robes of a saint.

Link spared only a passing glance at the artwork and kept his eyes on the floor ahead of them for hidden triggers. He doubted Thanos ever fought a fair fight in his life, and assumed this palace to be laden with traps.

At the end of the Hall of Thanos was another archway that opened to a round chamber. Though it wasn't quite as gaudy as the entrance hall, it was easily three times as tall and wide. In fact, when Link looked up, he could see a point of daylight in the apex of the ceiling. This chamber ran the entire length of the keep's spire. Balls of fire that burned seemingly without any fuel source and cast no heat hovered throughout the anteroom, filling it with orange-yellow light. Two spiral staircases were built into the walls at either end of the chamber and led upward in one direction to a series of multi-tiered balconies and down into the keep in the other.

There were three balconies, one right over the next, to either side of Link. Each had long support arms that merged seamlessly into the dark marble walls. Directly in front of Link, several stories up, was the largest balcony of them all. Past a fence of thick balusters was a throne made from polished ivory.

It was from that highest balcony that Thanos probably looked down upon his carefully crafted world with glee. Here he could have been the center of attention. Link now saw what those balconies beneath the throne really were: daises for supplicants. They would have to rise to speak with Thanos, but he still remained higher than them.

Now, however, Duncan Azar stood beyond those balusters gazing down at the antechamber. The four years since Link had last seen him had aged Duncan. His gray hair stuck out in wild disarray, stains and rips marred his brown robes, and a few new lines decorated his dark face. Most striking, however, was the absence of the cloth he normally wore around his blind eyes. Gone was the cloth and now fully sighted brown eyes stared out at the world.

Link took a step forward, feeling his cloak twist about his legs as he did so, and said, "Hello, old friend, we meet again."

Duncan regarded him with sadness. "I wish you had listened to me, boy. Leave here before I am forced to harm you."

"You won't harm me," Link said. "I have known you for too long to ever fear you."

"You do not know the Eye of Thanos!" Duncan said with sudden venom. "It compels me to protect it, and to achieve my goals, I will use all the powers it offers—even the power to kill."

Link was silent for a long moment as he gazed at his friend. Still, he did not draw the Master Sword or take an aggressive stance. "I understand," he said. "I understand why you have done this, and I understand the magic you seek to command.

"It's flawed, Duncan. The Eye of Thanos does not work. It didn't work two thousand years ago when Thanos crafted it, and it doesn't work now."

"You know nothing of this magic. I command it!"

"I know what Thanos tried to achieve." Link held out his hands to indicate the palace around them. "This palace, Canor, his inventions, all served one goal: legacy. Thanos feared becoming forgotten. He did all of this so no one would ever forget him.

"When Jarod killed Thanos, it wasn't because he was trying to prevent the alteration of the past, but an infestation of the future. The Si'Ra recognized what Thanos could not. Jarod saw the harm that could come from the misuse of power. Thanos was using magic no one should possess. He was tampering with not just time but with the underworld itself."

"You're wrong." Duncan seemed near desperation. "This is power! I have reached into the past and changed the things I wished."

"This is flawed power," Link repeated in a hard tone. "You can change the past, but can you affect the future?"

"I control the present." Duncan raised his hand and held up a finger sized stone with Old Hylian symbols emblazoned on it. "I could erase you from existence, Link."

The Knight of the Triforce was unmoved. "I'm sure you could, Duncan, but can you then restring all the changes I have made in my lifetime? Is that why Calbor was destroyed when you tried to help your family? Too many changes to keep track of? People make history, my old friend, not magic. Magic is just a tool; life is the true power. You may control some, but you shall never control all."

"Stop it!" Duncan shook with rage. A twin to its master's anger, blue magic began forming around the Eye of Thanos. "Leave here now, Link!"

Link took another step forward and declared, "No. I will not leave until you have given up the Eye and agreed to come with me back to Hyrule. Let me help you."

Duncan threw his head back and screamed. The palace around them groaned in response. The magic around Duncan's hand flashed, split into two balls, and shot from the Eye. As they tumbled through the air, the balls of magic grew larger until they were twice as tall as Link. They hit the ground floor underneath the throne and began solidifying.

"Haven't you ever heard that you shouldn't anger hornets?" Qulanda asked as she moved closer to him.

"I didn't have any other ideas." Link watched as the balls deepened in color until they were a glossy black. His eyes widened with realization and he pushed Qulanda back. "Get to the stairs quickly! Go up!"

Qulanda opened her mouth to protest, but a deep rumbling that reverberated throughout the entire throne room cut her off. The balls of magic had fully formed and were now rolling toward them. She took one look at the mirrorballs and started for the stairs.

Qulanda and Duena went left and Link went right. Predictably, one ball turned to follow him and the other angled to pursue his companions. The Master Sword flashed in the uniform orange-yellow light as the Knight of the Triforce pulled it free.

As his companions struggled to stay ahead of the mirrorball, Link ran toward it. He crossed the path of the ball chasing him and dropped to his knees when only paces away from the second mirrorball. Link held the blade of legend at an awkward angle as he slid across the polished marble.

The ball aimed toward Qulanda and Duena passed only inches from his face, and the terrible sound of metal tearing through metal rang out. Link turned his head away and closed his eyes as shards of the mirrorball cut into him.

The mirrorball's momentum quickly carried it away from the Knight. Link twisted and glanced over his shoulder. The Master Sword had intercepted the ball as it passed by and sliced from it a three-foot long wedge. It was enough though. The ball continued on its course to Qulanda and Duena, arcing slightly, and soon rolled on the opening left by the Master Sword. Its surface was no longer continuous and it dropped to an immediate halt.

The second mirrorball, showing no interest in Qulanda or Duena, turned sharply around as though on a track and again aimed for Link.

Duena paused at the base of the stairwell. "Link!" she cried.

The Knight of the Triforce rolled and was on his feet in a blink. "Go!" he shouted. "Get Duncan!" The ball was at his heels, then, and he didn't have time for anything more.

* * *

Duena stared wide-eyed at Link as he ran for his life across the ground floor of the throne room. She wanted to do something, to help him in some way, but didn't know how. Terrible fear gripped the back of her throat.

Qulanda didn't hesitate. "Come on." She started up the stairwell.

Duena spared one last glance back, then followed her.

The next several minutes vanished in a rush of her feet stomping and Qulanda's boots clopping against the marble steps. They passed archways leading deeper into the palace, observation chambers, narrow corridors for servants, and open doorways leading to the balconies.

Qulanda stopped beside one doorway and peered out. They were a little more than halfway up the throne room, at the opening of the third tier balcony. From here she could see Duncan standing next to the balusters of his box. She checked the bolt loaded in her crossbow and stepped out onto the balcony.

Qulanda raised her bow, took careful aim, and fired. The bolt left her weapon with a _thwack_ sound and arced in a perfect flight toward Duncan's chest.

At the last instant before the bolt would strike, Duncan spun with unnatural speed, grabbed the bolt with his free hand, and raised the Eye of Thanos.

Qulanda gasped and fumbled for another quarrel. Duena could see that another bolt would do little good; blue magic was already forming around the Eye. Reacting without thought, Duena grabbed Qulanda, lifted her easily into the air, and turned toward the stairwell. She just cleared doorway when the blast of magic hit.

Marble shattered like glass and a roar akin to the sound of a well built bonfire filled Duena's ears. They rushed back down the stairs and Duena couldn't be sure if she was running or falling down them. She clung to Qulanda and did her best to keep the Hylian sheltered in her large arms. Distantly, she could hear the sound of females screaming.

They finally came to a rest on the second balcony's landing, but their respite was short lived. Another blast of magic hit, this one stronger than the first.

The wall concealing most of the stairwell from the main chamber vanished in a rush of blue lightning. Duena felt herself slam into the wall of the landing with the force of the implosion. She quickly popped her wrists into their second joints and braced herself against the wall with Qulanda in between.

A third torrent of lightning followed the second and this time the stairs took the full bunt of the attack. Stone ground against stone and Duena felt herself falling. Out of the corner of her vision, Duena saw an archway to an observation chamber flash by. Reacting with reflexes she did not possess before Link began training her, Duena lifted Qulanda and threw her into the chamber.

Satisfied that Qulanda would be safe, and feeling like her job was completed, Duena rolled into a ball and followed the stairs down to the lower levels of Thanos' palace.

* * *

"No!"

The echoing screams of his friends and the Knight's anger called forth the sword's magic. It rushed through his body like a second blood. It called for revenge. Forgetting momentarily about the price the power could carry, Link gave himself over to the magic. He launched into the air and let the magic cushion him as he twisted about in a flip.

Link's weak, running defense against the mirrorball suddenly became a strong assault. He saw his image reflected in the ball's surface, his cloak billowing around his body, as he slashed left and right. Somewhere in the clamor of the second level balcony's destruction, the stairwell's collapse, and the rumble of the mirrorball was the Knight's battle cry.

His boots barely touched the now scuffled marble floor. Link jumped and twisted in a series of kicks, slashes, and cuts. For as maneuverable as the mirrorball was, it could not match the speed or ferocity of the Knight of the Triforce's righteous rage.

When it was over, the left stairwell was gone, rubble on the first balcony and strewn about the ground floor was all that was left of the second tier balcony, and the second mirrorball lay in three separate pieces. A thin white haze of pulverized marble filled the chamber.

Link stood among the remains of the ball, gasping for breath. "Is this power, Duncan?" he asked. "Is this what Thanos desired?"

Duncan stared wide-eyed at the destruction that had quickly overtaken the formerly preserved throne room. "Just like the monastery," he muttered.

With suddenly heavy limbs, Link sheathed the Master Sword. "Come down here," he said. "Or I'll go up there and drag you down." He wearily walked to the center of the chamber.

"I'm sorry, my boy," Duncan whispered, shock still visible on his face. "I'm sorry you didn't listen to me."

"But _you_ will listen to me now." It wasn't a question, but a command. Link was unaware of small fingers of magic forming in the marble underneath his boots.

Duncan shook his head. "There are others coming. They will be here within days. I must prepare my garjos for them, and then salvage what I can from all this."

"Who are they?" Link asked. "Will you kill them, too?"

Duncan glanced to the side. "Among them, an old friend," he said. "And, yes, I will have to kill them to preserve the Eye. I held the guardians of the temple off because I wanted you to escape. I didn't want to harm you."

The fingers of magic were bigger now. "Apparently you don't know me as well as you always claimed to," Link said. "Not if you thought I would leave you here with the Eye. No one man should hold that much power—flawed or not."

Duncan smiled sadly. "Perhaps you are right." He raised the Eye of Thanos. "It was good to finally see you, Link. Pray for me when you enter the next world." He waved his hand and the magic underneath Link flared in intensity.

Link glanced down and tried to jump away, but couldn't gain enough leverage before the floor reverted to sand. The Knight plunged downward...but managed to grab the edge of the newly formed hole before falling all the way through.

Link's fingers dug into the small hills of sand around the edge, searching for traction. Below him was blackness. "Duncan!"

"I'm sorry," Duncan said again. "It is the only way. I did not make the rules."

Link yelled in frustration and anger as he lost his grip and fell into the lower reaches of the palace.

* * *

Qulanda came awake slowly and painfully. She rolled onto her back and checked her limbs for broken bones, then, after she was satisfied all was in working order, she reached for her crossbow. It wasn't there.

After a moment of panic, Qulanda located it several feet away from where she landed. Landed. The last thing she remembered was falling down the stairs with Duena trying to shield her.

"Duena..." Qulanda climbed to her feet, wincing as her knees popped, and stumbled to the entranceway of the chamber. The stairs had completely collapsed underneath Duncan's magical bombardment. The torrent of energy had also forced much of the stairwell inward. Large slabs of marble pushed into the small chamber and sealed her off from the throne room.

She peered down what remained of the well and saw blackness. "Duena!" Panic threatened to overtake her. What if she was the last of the group? What if the mirrorball had crushed Link and Duena lay dead underneath all this marble? "Duena!" she screamed.

A loud roar suddenly answered her and sent Qulanda stumbling back in fright. There was another roar followed by a clawed foot that tried to reach her around the slabs of marble. It was a garjo!

"Holy Spirits protect me," Qulanda said, reaching for the charm around her neck and backing another several steps. The garjo clawed angrily at the heavy stone, but could not get through. Distantly, she heard Duncan's voice.

A hurried glance over her shoulder told Qulanda that there was a narrow hall that led into the palace proper. She spared one last glance at the archway to make sure the garjo couldn't follow, then ran into the hall.

* * *

Link fell end over end into darkness. Blackness pushed against him from all sides, leaving him blind. His shoulders slammed into unseen walls as he plunged downward. There was seemingly no end to the chute he found himself in.

Desperately, he grabbed at the smooth walls but could find no handholds or ridges to grasp. He fell through several thick, sticky webs on his way down. Those webs did little to slow his decent, however. Cold slime coating the chute squished every time he slammed into the walls.

Eventually, the chute curved slightly and Link was able to latch onto a somewhat stable purchase. His hands found and franticly grabbed hold of a grill rough with rust. Water poured through, quickly soaking Link.

The Knight gasped for breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Fear racked his body as he kicked his legs helplessly beneath the grate. Hand over hand, Link pulled himself higher up the grill. He hoped that somewhere along the top he'd find a ladder or handholds for climbing back up the chute.

The grate, however, could not support so much weight and began pulling away from the wall. Link paused and for one long moment he thought he was safe. Then, with the horrible sound of metal grinding against metal, the grill bent and ripped from its frame.

Link hit the slime covered wall at an awkward angle, felt the breath leave his lungs in a loud whoosh, and again plunged down the chute.

Even in the darkness, he could tell that the tunnel had narrowed considerably. His shoulders were now only inches away from the sides. Fear that the walls would continue to close in and he would become trapped here in the darkness gripped the back of his throat.

Knowing that panic would only rob him of needed concentration, Link forced his mind to clear and centered his thoughts. He dug his fingers into the water and slime beneath him and kicked his legs out to the sides. His boots touched the walls and the friction began slowing his fall.

Link twisted and turned into the decent, controlling his speed and position a small amount. A tiny pinpoint of light suddenly appeared further down the chute and Link realized that he had somehow remained upright. Water continued to rush past him and he could hear the sound of it splashing into a pool beyond the chute.

As that pinpoint of light grew quickly, Link reached to his throat and began pulling at the clasp holding his cloak closed. The pin had just come free when the light overtook him and the Knight found himself falling again. He exited the chute and tumbled arms over legs with a cascade of water around him.

The world was a blur as he fell, and then he hit the pool of water. Coming from such a distance hitting the surface of the water felt like hitting stone. Link gasped instinctually and flooded his lungs with water. The force of his fall and the weight of the gear in the pack that had somehow stayed on his shoulders drew him downward.

Black spots began dancing in his vision and panic threatened to again overwhelm him. Link released the garment clasp and struggled free of the cloak that had twisted awkwardly around his frame. Finally free of the cloak, he spent a long fear-filled moment trying to guess which direction was up. Deciding to aim for the water that was slightly less dark than it was in other directions, Link began to swim.

His lungs burned with the need for air. He could feel the water he had inhaled lying heavy in his body and wanted desperately to expel it.

After what felt like hours, Link broke the surface of the pool. He gulped down air and immediately started coughing up water. He spotted a long stretch of scaffolding along the wall of the wide chamber he was in, and headed for it.

By the time he reached it, Link's limbs felt like dead weights. Every muscle in his body cried for a rest. Still, though, Link managed to drag himself hand over hand out of the water up onto the scaffolding. Once there, he promptly vomited up all the water he had swallowed.

Rolling on his back, Link closed his eyes and soon lost consciousness.

* * *

Link woke after an indeterminable amount of time. A brief inspection revealed that he had not broken any bones during the fall and, aside from several fresh bruises and scratches, he was all right.

He stood on the catwalk, gazing at the massive chamber he found himself in. Open chutes, including the one he fell through, lined the chamber in groups of three. Some had steady streams of water falling from them to the pool that dominated most of the room, but many looked as though they hadn't conducted any water for a long time.

The room was windowless and doorless. Phosphorescent algae provided the only illumination. Aside from wyth that grew in grayish-blue patches in the corners, the chamber was barren. Above the chutes leading back up into the palace proper was a vaulted ceiling made of intricately carved stonework.

Catwalks like the one Link stood on lined the chamber in four levels, but not one reached high enough to access the chute openings. Link assumed masons had left the scaffolds when they sealed the chamber.

After searching the scaffolds and finding nothing useful, Link ate a small dinner of dried sandray and cold water. Then he stripped and explored the underwater section of the chamber. There he found that the chamber floor was nearly as far down as the ceiling was high from the surface level.

Again there were no doors or windows. He did, however, find much smaller versions of the chutes and several grates that presumably led back into the palace. All were too small for him to swim through, however. The fruitless search took hours, but Link did figure out where he was.

Returning to the catwalk, Link sat with his legs still in the water regarding the chamber with new insight.

"An aqueduct," he said, amused. "An internal aqueduct." His voice echoed slightly in the large chamber. Water continued to trickle down. In an effort to better secure the palace against siege, Thanos had constructed a complex system of water collection and irrigation throughout the palace. Link thought about all those gargoyles along the outside of the keep and imagined a water collection bin for each. The chutes below the surface of the pool probably worked as channels throughout the entire palace. It suddenly made sense that the fountains in the courtyard still had water standing in them.

Link thought about the age of the palace and gave a nod of approval. "Pretty advanced for your time, Thanos," he said. "Not bad for mine, either." The Knight's amusement slowly faded as he continued to glance about the chamber.

"And a very useful prison," he added.


	32. Chapter Twenty Eight

****

Chapter Twenty Eight

By the beginning of her fourth week with the Si'Frant, Zelda was exhausted. They continued to push on at the unvarying pace that carried them quickly over the Canor highlands. Supplies began to run thin, but no one suggested hunting anything larger than local bugs that seemed to be leaving the very area the Si'Frant were heading toward. They could not spare the time for a hunt; already ten more Si'Frant had fallen ill and died.

One, Zelda later learned, was a bondfriend to Kella—more than a friend but less than a clanmate, according to Gil. Kella continued to walk near Zelda during the day, and continued to teach Irbe and Glenn numerous holds and attacks that would no doubt soon be part of the Hylian Guard's training routine. The young Si'Frant never express any interest in friendship with Zelda, but did seem oddly intrigued by the princess.

"What do you wish to do once you are grown?" Zelda had asked one day while they walked. Behind her even Masie seemed tired from trekking the upward leading terrain.

"My clan weaves tapestries," Kella had replied in Hylian.

"So that is what you will do?" Zelda switched her pack from one shoulder to the other and regarded the impassive face of the youngest Si'Frant left.

"Now I will help the community find the Eye of Thanos," Kella said after a moment of thought. "We'll see afterward if there is need for history tapestries."

Such serious words from one so young broke Zelda's heart. It was made worse by the realization that Kella had a point: even if the illness was cured tomorrow, the Si'Frant may have suffered too much loss to continue as they had before. Leadership struggles, Si'Frant holding loyalty to one another such as Vati to Gil, and the hints of cracks in their deep rooted faith Zelda has picked up on all said that change of some sort was inevitable. If the Si'Frant were unprepared for power struggles, internal fighting, and doubt in the Si'Ra, they may tear each other apart before new stories are recorded in tapestries.

Zelda watched Kella over the next few weeks and, again, felt shame at wishing these people condemned to death. When she fought with Link outside the Temple of Time and said the Si'Frant deserved to die, she hadn't thought about children or the people that believed in the Si'Ra simply because that was all they had ever known. Link had and she now wished there had been a way to help them.

As they continued to climb into the highlands, the weather continued to turn bad. Snow fell almost every night, and the wind during the day was often enough to cover any trace of a road with blowing snow.

At some of the more lofty elevations, Zelda and her group had to work to keep the horses from slipping on ice and injuring themselves. Twice they had slowed enough that the Si'Frant marched completely past and they had to catch up by walking after nightfall.

When the palace of Thanos finally came into view, Zelda, Glenn, Irbe, and even Impa paused to take in the grand sight in the middle of the harsh wasteland. The Si'Frant were unmoved and continued to travel without interruption.

"You've been here before," Zelda said to Gil after they had stopped that night, "haven't you?"

"Not in many generations," Gil had answered. "But my people are familiar with Thanos and his palace."

"How?"

Gil took a long time to answer. He gazed into the large fire several Si'Frant and Zelda's group sat huddled around. "Many years after your Knights of the Triforce cast the Si'Ra into the underworld," he said, "Fegobvesjarod left the safety of the Chamber of Tears with Vox at his side to search for a great prophet that had reportedly broken free of the wizards and Knights during the war.

"He left us with the command to continue training and wait for his word. We did—we did as he had commanded us to do. The Si'Ra was gone for a long time, and some did lose faith, but the true Si'Frant never wavered. Then, two thousand years ago, we were sent word that the Si'Ra had a mission for us." Gil smiled as though the events of so long ago had happened to him; Zelda could find no fault in their indoctrination training. "A group of the best trained Si'Frant were dispatched, as Fegobvesjarod instructed, to Thanos' palace."

"Your people were there to kill Thanos?" Zelda guessed.

"Oh no," Gil said. "By then Thanos was dead."

"Vox killed him, then?"

"Fegobvesjarod killed Necromancer Thanos," Gil said. "By his own word, Jarod killed Le'Ven'Giloy."

Zelda shook her head at the inconstancy. "That's not possible because Jarod was incapable of using light magic—to the point of being unable to take a life without his own life being forfeited. My palace staff saw that Jarod was unable to even punish Vox without incurring echoes of the pain."

"I know only what I was taught, Princess Zelda. Even Pav never thought to question Fegobvesjarod's version of events."

Zelda wondered if it was possible Thanos had survived Jarod, but then discounted that with the knowledge that the Tower's wizards felt him die. She told herself that she was too jumpy about things regarding Jarod. "Continue with your story please."

"The Si'Frant were given special protection to pass through the shields that had then blocked the palace from the Tower wizards sent to investigate, and they retrieved several items from Thanos' storehouse. One of these items was the Eye of Thanos.

"Once he had returned to us with the knowledge of how to overcome the spell cast on him from the Triforce, Fegobvesjarod informed us that we were to guard the Eye until he returned."

Zelda swallowed hard. "He was going to use it himself—when he had his light magic restored?" Jumpy or not, the thought of a wizard of Jarod's caliber in possession of the Eye filled her with dread.

"That is what he said...though some of us believed that he was going to destroy it."

Zelda was taken aback by that. "Destroy it? Why?"

"Fegobvesjarod often acted as though the Eye of Thanos was alive," Gil said. "Alive and very dangerous. If it had not been blasphemy to even think it, I would have believed that it frightened him."

Zelda had shivered at that and decided she didn't want to know anything further of the confrontation between Thanos and his duplicitous apprentice. Some histories should remain buried.

* * *

After all that, after months away from Hyrule, Zelda finally arrived at the palace of Sorcerer Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy. Even as the Si'Frant rushed through the open gates, she allowed herself a moment of rest and gazed up at the walls around the palace. Her trained eye caught the intricacies of the architecture, stonework, and the dependability of the keep, but her gaze centered on the palace's near perfect condition.

"It's so well preserved," Irbe remarked, as though reading her thoughts. "Not even any weather damage."

"It's probably magically preserved," Impa said. "Thanos did have a fondness for time manipulation it seems."

"Ya know this is probably a trap," Glenn said. "Why don't ya let the captain and me secure the area, Princess?"

Zelda shook her head and squared her shoulders. "No, Glenn. I've come this far and I'll see it to the end."

"Just so it ain't the end of ya!"

"Link's in there," she said. "We'll find him, find the Eye, and leave."

Following her lead, the group walked past the gates and into the courtyard. There they found Epona and several other horses, all watching the Si'Frant with narrow gazes. Epona did not like the intention she sensed in them and made her disapproval known through very angry sounding neighs.

"Hard Biscuit," Impa said darkly. "Duncan's here."

"Hale, hale," Zelda intoned. "We're all in the right place, I guess."

Glenn and Irbe led their mounts and packhorses over to Epona's group and left them in her care. Only her recognition of Glenn kept the chestnut mare from chasing both soldiers off.

By the time they had finished, all the Si'Frant had entered the keep and Zelda was eagerly watching her guards from the top of the stairs leading to the entranceway. She heard both men sigh as they walked up the steps and followed her inside. Impa didn't stray far from Zelda's side, her hand on the hilt of Pelx's knife and an air of deadly preparedness hanging about her.

Zelda noted little of the entrance hall—though did take a moment to gaze in wonder at the massive statue—as she followed the Si'Frant. The former servants of the Si'Ra walked without hesitation down the hall of Thanos' self-styled artwork, and entered the throne room.

This time it was Glenn and Irbe's turn to gaze in wonder. "What in the name of the keeper happened here?" the young captain asked.

"A battle of some sort," Impa muttered. "I smell magic."

Zelda turned slowly about and soaked in the sights of the destroyed stairwell, the broken balcony, and the remains of the mirrorballs. "Link?" she whispered.

"Here me, intruders!" a gravel like voice rang out. "Leave here now or face the wrath of the guardians of the temple!"

Zelda and the Si'Frant in unison traced the echo upward and looked to the balcony with the throne proudly displayed on it. Duncan stood with his hands resting on the tops of the balusters. "Leave here," he repeated.

Impa hissed under her breath and tightened her grip on her knife's hilt.

"We are many, you are one," Yin said, speaking for the Si'Frant. "Return to us what you stole and we shall let you live."

Duncan shook his head, his long gray hair swaying. "The Eye of Thanos is mine now and you do not hold the advantage you think. This is your last change to walk from my palace..."

"You will endure our wrath," Yin warned. "The Si'Frant shall not show mercy."

Duncan said nothing and continued to gaze down at them.

Yin pointed to three Si'Frant loyal to him and said, "Take the remaining stairwell and bring him down. The old fool is mad."

The Si'Frant bowed and started for the stairs that spiraled up and down.

Glenn and Impa moved closer to Zelda. "I don't like this," he whispered.

"Impa," Zelda said, "can you sense Link?"

"No. Can you?"

Zelda shook her head and glanced about worriedly. She felt as though hundreds of eyes watched her.

Yin's men made it to the third step before a gray blur slammed into them and knocked them back down to the ground landing. The first Si'Frant was dead before he even knew he'd been attacked. The second managed to raise his hands in defense, but could not stop the whiplike tail that wrapped around his neck, bit into the skin with the force of the blow, and nearly severed his head. The third scrambled to his feet and jumped at the creature that had dispatched two of his brothers, but the creature was faster and cut the jump off with one of its own and took the Si'Frant to the ground. A large dewclaw cut into the Si'Frant's chest and, with a single savage swipe, cut him open.

The horned creature was several feet tall with large hind legs and a whiplike tail. It gave a terrible growl and jumped off the dead Si'Frant. It landed several feet in front of Yin and, very calmly, began licking the blood from its claws.

Several Si'Frant cried out in challenge, but Duncan's booming voice halted their vengeance filled charge. "Behold, intruders, the guardians of the temple. Meet my tame garjos!"

With roars that seemed to shake the entire palace, hundreds of those creatures suddenly appeared from the shadows and the rubble of the stairwell's destruction. All had fangs bared and tails wagging in anticipation. Glowing, slanted eyes took in their prey and roared again.

Glenn swore violently and reached Zelda before Impa or Irbe. He grabbed her arm and turned toward the entrance chamber. They covered only two steps, however, before they saw ten more garjos in the art filled hall and many more than that in the entrance chamber behind them.

Zelda suddenly agreed wholeheartedly with Glenn's curse.

* * *

Qulanda ducked as the garjo passed only inches from her head in a fury of flapping wings. She went to one knee, spun, and raised her crossbow. The garjo landed gracefully in front of her and bared its fangs. Muscles underneath its hairless hide flexed as it prepared to jump yet again.

Qulanda didn't waste a moment and fired once the beast was on all fours. The garjo tried to dodge the bolt but days spent stalking her had stolen some of its reaction time. The quarrel struck its mark, passed through the beast's right eye, and pierced the brain.

The garjo crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut and hit the ground with a loud thud. Its wings beat spasmodically for a few moments before they, too, were still. Qulanda sat on her heels and breathed a sigh of relief. Her heart pounded in her chest and she could taste bile on her tongue. Duena hadn't been exaggerating when she spoke of a garjo's intense hunting style.

After catching her scent in the observation chamber adjacent to the throne room, the garjo had somehow found a way into the servant's halls she had escaped into and tracked her relentlessly.

Qulanda pushed slowly to her feet and ran a hand back through her dirty and unkempt hair. That and her clothes were crusted in places with dried blood—some of it garjo and some of it hers. Bloodshot eyes and dark circles underneath them spoke of long sleepless hours running.

She clipped the crossbow back on her belt as she walked to the dead garjo. Grimacing at the ugly duty ahead of her, Qulanda bent and reached for the butt end of the bolt jutting from the creature's eye. Wrenching it left and right, she finally managed to pull it free; it came out with a wet sucking sound.

Qulanda wiped the bolt on her torn and stained cloak and slipped the quarrel into the quiver beside the crossbow. Bolts were precious now that she might have to face Duncan and his garjos alone and she couldn't risk losing one at any cost. Even if it meant having to ruin her cloak with garjo brain matter.

Turning slowly about, Qulanda took stock of her surroundings. Like many of the other corridors she'd spent the past several days in, this one was narrow and made of uneven stone. Unlike the polished elegance of the front chambers, the stone here was coarse and sloppily held together with large amounts of mortar. Here servants and slaves had spent their lives to craft the idea of excellence Thanos seemed to have loved.

She doubted Thanos had ever set foot in these corridors during his tenure in the palace.

Sighing again, Qulanda started back the way she came. She numbly put one foot in front of the other and tried to remember the way back to the front chambers. While running from the garjo, she hadn't been interested in landmarks, only moving fast enough to stay ahead of the creature after her blood. The process of returning through all those twisting and curving passageways suddenly seemed just as daunting as finding Duena, finding Link, and stopping Duncan.

The ever-present hovering fireballs were widely spaced down the corridor and Qulanda stumbled from one sphere of light to the other. She made it down three identical corridors before her legs finally gave out in exhaustion.

Qulanda tried pushing to her feet, but she couldn't make her limbs respond correctly. The areas of steady light about the balls of fire were blurs to her weary eyes. "Maybe a nap wouldn't hurt," she murmured, sliding again to the floor.

She rolled up in her cloak and was asleep before the thought of a second garjo or another danger leftover from Thanos' time could enter her mind.

* * *

Rumbling that shook the floor and rattled her skull woke Qulanda. She opened her eyes and for one terror filled moment didn't know where she was. Then the memory of the disastrous confrontation in the throne room and the garjo came back to her and she realized she had much worse things to be afraid of than confusion.

Suddenly very mindful of the rumbling that was becoming steadily louder, Qulanda came to her feet and drew her crossbow. She fumbled twice in loading a fresh bolt into the weapon but finally managed and drew the tension back.

Qulanda squared her stance, breathed a silent prayer, raised her crossbow, and readied herself to face yet another garjo. The brief rest had helped to wash away some of her tiredness, but if this second garjo wasn't as fatigued as the last one, then she knew a single bolt would not likely kill it. Tiredness had slowed the last one and made it unable to dodge her shot. Her left hand toyed with the butts of quarrels rising above the lip of her quiver.

The sphere of light down the hall from her suddenly disappeared as something large passed in front of it. Breath caught in Qulanda's throat. Whatever that was, it was not a garjo. It was something much, much bigger. She pulled a second quarrel free of the quiver.

The rumbling stopped for a moment, then started again with renewed urgency. Qulanda realized her mistake, then: she should have left the area of light given off by the ball of fire next to her. Her target could now see her, but she could not see it. Qulanda dimly wondered if that was the mistake that would result in her death.

Her hand shook as she aimed the crossbow. She searched the shadows for any sign of movement; one twitch and she would pull the release.

"You do not need your weapon," a gentle voice rumbled. "It is only I." With that, Duena stepped from the darkness into the sphere of light.

"Duena!" Grinning ear to ear, Qulanda lowered the crossbow and rushed to her friend. She threw her arms around the Goron and had no intention of letting go. Standing before her was a solid connection to the friendships she had forged while traveling the wasteland. "I thought I was alone down here!"

Duena returned the embrace. "I, too, feared being the only member of our party left alive," she said. "But my hopes soared when I heard the sounds of fighting several corridors away from where I was."

Qulanda drew back and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "A garjo followed me." She regarded her friend in the flickering light of the fireball, and noted that Duena had not walked away from her fall unscathed. Deep bruises darkened the Goron's tough skin and a couple of the bony ridges on her back had broken off. Still, though, she was alive and Qulanda was no longer alone in the forbidding passageways.

"Did you see what happened to Link?" Duena asked.

Qulanda shook her head and glanced down. "No. After the stairwell fell, I couldn't see the throne room at all. I don't even know how long I was unconscious after you threw me out of the stairwell—or how long I've been down here."

"I have lost time, too," Duena confessed.

"Do you think you can find a way back to the throne room?"

"Yes," Duena answered without hesitation. "I am well adapted to this sort of an environment."

"Let's go then." Qulanda drew a deep breath and hefted her crossbow. "Let's finish this."

* * *

With a trembling hand, Link reached for the next crack in the wall. He hung most of the way up the massive aqueduct, using cracks and chips in the thick stone walls as handholds.

His hand found a purchase in the wall and he shifted his weight in preparation to climb even higher. Without any windows or means to see the outside, Link had no way of clocking days so he had adopted a system of exploring the chamber until exhaustion brought him to his knees, sleeping, and starting the cycle over again. Those repetitive cycles became his days.

After several days of searching and finding nothing, Link had decided on a plan to scale the wall in an attempt to reach the chute he'd entered through and climbing back up. It had taken a lot of painstaking scraping with his belt knife several feet up just to produce handholds where there were no cracks or chips.

Link shifted his weight and reached further up the wall. With a loud snap the piece of wall he held onto suddenly gave way, leaving him holding broken marble and dust. Link howled in surprise and grappled for another ridge as he slid down. He was falling too fast, however, and couldn't find anything to hold on to. He landed hard on the catwalk where he had started.

"No!" Link swung the pack from his shoulders and threw it against the wall. He paced the narrow catwalk furiously, swearing every other step.

"Are you enjoying this, Duncan?!" he yelled at the ceiling. "Are you up there laughing at how well crafted this prison is?"

The Knight of the Triforce stalked up and down the catwalk, frustration and hunger gnawing at him. He had eaten the last of the food saved in his pack and now only had the room's accumulated rain and snow water to live on.

"This should be the part of our tale you're familiar with, Duncan," he continued. "This was always the part where I came to you for advice because I had no idea what to do next." He paused and looked down at his rippling reflection in the water. "The chutes above the water are out of reach, the vents and chutes below the water are too small for me, and if there are any doors leading from this chamber they were sealed more than two thousand years ago. There's no way out."

Exhausted, Link dropped to his knees. "Good job, my old friend."

For the hundredth time, he thought about Qulanda and Duena. He hoped they had survived the destruction in the throne room and were now far away from here. He held no expectation of one of them rescuing him. Even if they were alive, they would have no idea where he was—_he_ wasn't even quite sure where the aqueduct was in relation to the throne room. No, this was a prison cell not a maze or puzzle room waiting for an ingenious solution to release him.

Without food, he would die here.

"I'm sorry, Zelda, but it seems I botched another one. I just can't win this time. Even if I could get out of here, I know I couldn't kill Duncan and take the Eye. I can't kill my friend. The rules of the game have me trapped." Link paused, then, and listened as his words echoed back.

He heard the echo and couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "I can't win by the rules," he said slowly. Impa's words from the night he left Hyrule Castle came back to him. He couldn't win by the rules of the game. So far Duncan had set all the conditions for victory. Link knew only what others told him about taking the Eye of Thanos. It was time to change all that.

With the ache of realization stiffening his muscles, Link pushed to his feet and walked to where his pack had landed. Its flap was open and the contents had spilled across the catwalk. His gaze swept over each item as it lay on the wet stone, his mind working fiercely. Spare clothes, empty waterskins, a couple bags of rupees, his hookshot, assorted items from his quests throughout the years, the healing potion Impa had given him, and the map of Canor Zelda's scholars had drawn for him. Nothing useful to escape with. His gaze came to a rest on the healing potion that had gone forgotten during his trek through Canor.

An idea started to form that sent ice down Link's spine. Could he really do such a thing to his friend? Belief, Duncan had taught him, was one of the most powerful magics. Was it more powerful than Thanos?

"I have to," he said, answering his own unspoken question. "I can stay here and go nowhere, stagnate until death finds me, or I can do what I must."

There were no doors leading from this chamber and the chutes and vents were too small, so why had he wasted days trying to find a door and squeezing through those openings? The idea quickly formed into a plan that filled Link with dread. What he would have to do—and what he would subject himself to—was horrible to even think.

Mind made up, Link collected the items that had fallen out of the pack and began jamming them back in. His hand lingered on the flask for a moment before dropping it in the pack as well. Impa had promised him that the potion was the most powerful the Tower of Magic sold—he hoped that wasn't another of her convenient lies.

"It's time to make new rules," the Knight said and slipped the pack onto his shoulders. His left hand moved slowly to the hilt of the sword at his waist. There was one more tool he'd come down here with that he had yet to try.

The Master Sword came free with the sound of steel against leather. Its flawless surface caught the dim light of the phosphorescent algae and reflected it about the chamber. Link raised the sword in a double-handed grip and rested his forehead against the cool blade. His breathing was quick in anticipation of the feel of magic.

Since the incident with the Si'Frant in the Temple of Time he had governed himself with the sword's power. He saw the magic as a dangerous force that required tight control. Instinctively he knew that such restraint would not help him today. Link was afraid of what he was about to unleash.

As he had during the fall down the chute, Link forced his thoughts clear. He had to do this, he told himself. Link called the sword's magic...and nothing happened.

A new kind of panic threatened to overtake him. The power of the Master Sword had always been available for his use. For a moment of terror, he thought that Duncan had somehow blocked the magic, but then realized that even the Eye of Thanos could not do such a thing. The joining he'd gone through with the magic was unbreakable.

Joined and unbreakable. "I must be what I was always meant to be," Link said, remembering the blessing given by Stne. By his own admission, the sword's power was a tool. A dangerous tool, yes, but just a tool. The magic had chosen him just as he chose the magic all those years ago. It was his to command and no one else's. Like the sword itself, it would only do what he told it to do. He was the master.

Link closed his eyes and thought about the sword's power. He thought about all the times he drew the magic. In battle when his life or the lives of others were at stake; when anger turned to rage and demanded action; when the cries of pain were so loud he had to offer them sanctuary. Each time the magic was there waiting and ready to aid him. Then there was the time with the Si'Frant when he called the magic without touching the sword. He had thought the Triforce had helped him then, but what if the truth wasn't so complicated? What if he simply _called_ the magic?

The Knight of the Triforce opened his eyes and called the Master Sword's magic. He did not reached into the sword for it; instead, he looked inward. Bidden, the magic erupted in Link's soul.

Through the rush of it, Link smiled. He felt no shame or worries in holding the power this time. Intense governing would not stop harm from resulting from the magic's use; only intelligence and reason born of experience would prevent that. Link lowered the sword and considered the chamber through a vale of magic. The power could feel his need to escape the chamber, and, in turn, Link could feel its eagerness to comply with his wishes, to serve a master that had been silent for so long.

Seeing only one way out, the Knight committed himself to the action he was about to perform and raised the Master Sword above his head in a two-handed grip. The Knights of the past had commanded magic. They were a counterpoint to the existence of wizards. They, like Link, were born to that power.

The air around the blade began to waver with heat. Steam rose from the wet stones around his boots and the water around the catwalk began boiling. Unaware of it all, Link continued to pull magic from the bottomless well the sword had opened within him and channel it outward. With only instinct to guide him, the Knight wove strings of magic around him like a tailor crafting a pair of trousers.

And then, with the ease of exhaling, the magic reached its peek and he cast the spell.

The air in the chamber shook with a clap of thunder. Link threw his head back and screamed; the roar of magic drowned the echo. Rings of fire, white and hot, flared into existence around the Knight and expanded outward with additional bursts of thunder until they hit the walls of the chamber. The fire slammed into the algae covered walls with the force of a lightning bolt. Marble disintegrated under the onslaught of fire and sheer force and fell by molted hunks into the pool of water.

The thunder continued to sound and the rings of fire continued to push through the walls, destroying feet of marble with every expansion. The aqueduct shook with the might of the attack and stones and support struts began falling from the ceiling. Fire ignited around the still figure of the Knight and kept him protected in a cocoon of flame. Link stood lost in the magic, unaffected by the heat, and only heard small disruptions in the roar of the fire as marble blocks hit the cocoon and rebounded.

With one final clap of thunder, the rings of fire pushed through one of the walls. The shifting of water and the sound of stone grinding against stone overtook the roar of fire.

Link lowered the Master Sword and recalled the spell. The fires flickered twice and faded. He sheathed the sword and watched in awe as the opposite force to what he had called finished clearing a path. Water poured through the hole opened in one of the walls. The force of the waves hitting what was left of the wall was enough to clear away blocks and bits of wall still left intact.

Link looked to the water rushing deeper into the palace, hoped silently that the water was cool enough to swim in, and jumped from the catwalk.

* * *

"Fall back!" Glenn shouted. "Form a circle!"

The Si'Frant had no reason to obey the commands of the captain of the guard, but they did recognize the authority in his voice and immediately responded to it. A hundred Si'Frant shuffled back and formed an unbroken circle.

Glenn and Irbe pushed Zelda into the center of the circle formation. The princess stood on her toes and peered over the heads of the short Si'Frant. Garjos had taken up position around them and seemed to only be waiting for a command before they attacked.

"Draw weapons if ya have 'em!" Glenn called. "Form two lines o' rotating attack. One front line and one defense line. If ya are in the second line, stand ready to move up and take the place o' a hurt attacker. If ya are in the first line, step back if ya are injured. We'll rotate the lines and keep fresh blades against the enemy!"

"You cannot win," Duncan called down to them. "You are no match for the guardians of the temple."

"We are Si'Frant!" Yin said. "Do not underestimate us."

The words did seem to inspire the crowd, but Zelda doubted they were much more than a wistful boasting. Perhaps if the Si'Frant were in full health they would stand a chance against so many animals, but they were not in the best of health. Zelda recognized the battle formation Glenn had ordered them in, and knew it was a formation for a last stand.

Duncan gave a single nod. "So be it," he said. "Garjos: attack!"

That was the magic word for the creatures gathered around them. As one, they moved forward.

"Stand ready!" Glenn called. He drew his sword and gestured with it. "Josia, get over to that point there. Impa, over there." He sent the Hylian right and the Sheikah left while he prepared to move to the front of the formation.

"What about me?" Zelda asked. "I can fight."

Glenn shook his head. "I'm hopin' ya ain't gonna have to."

"Glenn..."

"Just wait here for now," he said. "Stay safe and let us handle this." With that the captain of the guard moved into the crowd of Si'Frant.

Zelda sighed. "There is no safe here."

Garjos came from all angles. Two at a time to test the Si'Frants' defense—or play with it. They snapped at the edge of the formation and the Si'Frant responded with acute reflexes. Even weakened with illness, they were still highly trained.

The garjos were unbelievably fast. They jumped at the Si'Frant, causing the gray clad fighters to scatter. A garjo jumped and brought down an older man with lines just starting to form around his eyes. The beast on top of him didn't take time to enjoy its victory and ended the man's struggling with a quick swipe of its dewclaw.

Responding with a defensive to rival the sudden attack, the Si'Frant, many armed only with broken bits of marble collected from the floor, converged on the garjo that had killed their brother. The garjo's whiplike tail swung at them, but the Si'Frant nimbly dodged it and struck with their makeshift weapons.

The garjo stumbled back senseless under a fury of blows to the head. It twisted and turned, trying to spear its attackers with its horns, but the Si'Frant were faster. A solid blow to its jaw snapped its head back and one of the Si'Frant lashed out with a precisely aimed kick. Even from where she stood, Zelda could hear a wet snap when that soft boot made contact with the garjo's throat.

The garjo jumped even further back, flapping its wings and coughing up blood.

Even as that confrontation was happening, several more broke out along the outer line. Glenn stood shoulder to shoulder with two Si'Frant that looked barely old enough to shave. His palace sword joined their belt knifes in attacking garjos and keeping them at bay. Dancing through forms with ease that denied his age and spoke of his years of experience, Glenn crossed his legs awkwardly, let all his weight fall on his right foot, and swung at a garjo as it flew past.

His sword found its mark and rent the side of the winged beast open, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Without waiting for instructions, the young Si'Frant around him jumped on the garjo and began stabbing it with their knifes. Another garjo roared and charged the young Si'Frant.

Glenn had already seen the second beast, however, and returned his weight to his left foot. He spun from his awkward stance with surprising speed and thrust the point of his sword out. The garjo, focused solely on the Si'Frant, never saw the sword and impaled itself on the length of the blade.

Glenn shook the animal off his sword and squared his stance for the next attack. "Hold the line!" he shouted. "Don't break forma—" The rest of his words were cut off by a female scream.

Zelda turned to see more garjos pushing into the throne room from the entrance hall. Vati, also seeing the intrusion, had run toward the entrance and engaged the animals before they could jump into the formation. Zelda understood why the female Si'Frant had screamed.

Vati lay with one garjo perched on the bloody remains of her left leg and another with its mouth where her right arm had been. Around her, however, were the bodies of two dead garjos—one had the hilt of her knife still protruding from its throat.

"No!" Gil yelled and was suddenly beside his friend's side. Four Si'Frant were running to join him, having already broken the circle, but Gil wasn't waiting for them.

Without any weaponry, Gil kicked the garjo eating Vati's arm square between the horns. The garjo stumbled back and growled. Gathering its large hind legs, the enraged beast jumped at Gil.

The student of Pav was ready though. Going down on one knee, Gil let the garjo fly overhead, and reached out as it passed. He grabbed its back leg and wrenched it around as he came up to his full height. Its jump thrown askew, the garjo hit the floor awkwardly with all of its weight coming down on its hind leg. The leg bone snapped and the garjo howled. Its tail swung toward Gil, but the Si'Frant had already moved aside.

Gil ran to the last garjo Vati had killed. As the second garjo abandoned Vati's leg in favor of the running meal, Gil went down to his knees. He slid and reached for Vati's knife...

The garjo jumped and landed beside Gil. The Si'Frant rolled and stabbed the knife clutched tightly in his hands blindly toward the snarling garjo. The blade slipped artfully into the beast's soft underbelly, just underneath the sternum.

Still on his back, Gil turned his wrists and pulled downward. The garjo gave a straggled cry and collapsed in a pool of quickly expanding blood and viscera. As the four arrived to kill the wounded garjo, Gil absently wiped his hands on his tunic and crawled to Vati's side. The female Si'Frant whispered something to her friend and then was still. Gil's wail of anguish momentarily overwhelmed the clamor of combat, the roars of animals, and the screams of the wounded and dying.

Unable to watch any more, Zelda looked away. To all sides of her, however, combat was raging. Si'Frant were putting up a better fight than she had expected, but already more than twenty lay in bloody heaps where the garjos had dragged them, and members of the inner ring had move forward to replace wounded. The stomach turning odors of blood, intestines opened to the world, and death filled the chamber.

To Zelda's left, Impa spun in a multitude of attacking forms that overshadowed even the assault of the Si'Frant. Moving with magically enhanced speed, the last Sheikah jumped, twisted, ducked, and struck to the music of the battlefield. She was a blur as she deftly avoided attacks from five garjos that had converged on her. Pelx's knife flashed left and right as Impa stabbed and slashed with it. Her boots only touched the ground for a moment before she was again in the air. At one point, she switched her Sheikah knife from her right hand to her left and fought with the same level of attainment. More than a dozen garjos lay dead around the Sheikah, and the number kept growing.

To Zelda's right, Irbe and Kella fought shoulder to hip. The oddly matched pair twisted away from garjos at the last second and lashed out with unmerciful attacks. The captain swung his battle-ax in wide, cutting arcs at the garjos around him. A counterpoint to her companion's bold attack, Kella danced around jumping and flying garjos and struck with a belt knife that she flourished expertly over her fingers.

Irbe took a long step forward, turning slightly, and gave a mighty swung of his ax and took the head of a passing garjo. He turned one-hundred-twenty degrees about and sliced the front leg from another garjo with his follow-through. Suddenly beside her friend, Kella was there to stab the wounded garjo and keep it from attacking Irbe. The two continued to fight next to one another with the proficiency of two long time veterans.

With the front line thinning, Zelda and several Si'Frant began helping the wounded in the center of the formation. People stumbled in with numerous gashes from dewclaws, stings from tails, and bite marks. Twice a wounded Si'Frant died in front of Zelda as she tore cloth for a tourniquet from the tails of her tunic. Within minutes, she was covered in black Si'Frant blood. The woman that had casually spoken of their death only a year before, now struggled to tie their wounds and keep them from bleeding to death.

Si'Frant fought bravely, but still fell to the hordes of garjos. Glenn was narrowly missed by a garjo that jumped at his back; Impa was still moving amazingly fast and striking down Duncan's creatures with sure and swift strokes, but was starting to show signs of fatigue; even Irbe and Kella were starting to fall out of sync.

It all became one long image of gore and combat to Zelda. She lost all sense of time and moved numbly from one injured Si'Frant to the next. Had she the time between bandaging wounds and comforting the dying, the princess would have given up more than one tear for the Si'Frant.

A sharp intake of breath followed by the drawing of a sword—a very big sword—caught the room's natural echo and somehow found Zelda's ears over the clamor. She finished tying a tourniquet on the leg stump of a mercifully unconscious Si'Frant, wiped her hands on her stained and torn tunic, and glanced in the direction of the new noise.

Zelda did a double take at what she saw. At first she wondered if she'd gone mad. In the mouth of an archway leading deeper into the palace stood a Hylian woman and a massive Goron holding a long sword.

Link's words from their time spent in dreamscape caught up with her though and she knew who the two were. "Qulanda!" she shouted. The Hylian glanced at her with relief apparent in her eyes. It was the sudden recognition of her race in the middle of madness. The remaining garjos also took notice of the exposed newcomers and began moving toward them.

Without thinking, Zelda drew the long dagger from the boot of the wounded Si'Frant and jumped to her feet. "Irbe!" she said as she ran. "I need help!"

Zelda dimly heard Glenn shouting to not break the circle, but she was already past the perimeter bound for Qulanda and Duena. She didn't see Link with them, but knew that he couldn't be far behind...

* * *

Feeling like a leaf lost in the wind of a thunderstorm, Link rushed down the corridors of Thanos' palace at the head of a water torrent. The palace's designers had never intended the passageways opened by the Knight's magical barrage to conduct water. Balls of flickering flame attempted to rise above the level of the water, but couldn't move faster than the rising water. Blackness followed close behind the front of the wave and swallowed the corridor behind Link with shadow.

Link kicked and swam for all he was worth to keep his head above the water. Twice he slammed hard into the walls while going around a curve, but each time managed to remain conscious and continued to swim.

Eventually, the hall narrowed and gave way to a landing with stairs ascending and descending. The released water plunged down the stairs in a sudden waterfall. Reacting quickly, Link reached out as he started to tumble end over end and caught the base of a stair leading upward.

Using what felt like the last of his strength, the Knight pulled himself from the rapids and lay gasping for breath just above the water level. The cold stone step was hard against his back. He lay in darkness but could see the wavering light of more fireballs several landings up. He didn't know how far down he was in the palace, but did know that there was only one way to the ground level.

Checking that his pack and sword had survived the trip, Link rolled onto his side and pushed to his feet. It struck him then that he still held the power of the sword even though he wasn't in direct contact with the sword. He could feel it surging through him, waiting for a command from its master. It didn't fight him for control, or try to influence his thoughts, just waited patiently for an objective. Knowing it would be there when he needed it, Link released the magic.

Glancing up and sighing, the Knight of the Triforce started up the staircase. With one step after another he grew closer to the ground level...

* * *

Zelda reached Qulanda and Duena at the same time the closest garjo did. Unitizing the Sheikah skills Impa had taught her, Zelda held the blade of her borrowed knife at a sharp right angle, spun and let her momentum carry her forward, and lashed out at the garjo. Her strike found its mark and cut a deep slash from the top of the garjo's shoulder down to where the wings met the body. The garjo roared and skidded off course.

A blade flashed as it descended and the ear-piercing roar cut off with a yelp. Zelda glanced up and saw the Goron yanking her sword free of the dead garjo's body. "Are you well, ma'am?" Duena asked.

Zelda nodded. "Yes." She glanced over her shoulder at the garjos continuing to bear down on them, and Irbe and Kella readying themselves to fight those creatures, before looking back at the newcomers. "Are you Duena and Qulanda?"

The two shared a glanced then nodded in unison. "Yes," Qulanda said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Zelda," she answered.

"Zelda!" Qulanda's eyes widened in shock. "Link's Zelda?"

Despite everything that had happened, the princess smiled. "That's right. Is Link with you?"

Another glanced passed between the Hylian and Goron. "We were separated," Duena said. "We do not know what happened to the Knight."

Zelda stumbled back as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Worry that had gnawed at her since coming within sight of the palace of Thanos ignited again.

Qulanda opened her mouth to speak, but the remaining garjos arrived then and there was no longer any time for their meeting. The exchange between Zelda and Link's traveling companions was temporarily over.

Three garjos charged Zelda, Duena, and Qulanda. At seven paces away, the guardians of the temple flapped their wings and took flight. Irbe and Kella were suddenly in between the garjos and Zelda. Kella's knife flourished over her fingers and Irbe's ax was a blur as it cut through the air.

Without hesitation, Duena hefted her long sword and joined the fray. Qulanda pulled a crossbow from her belt, checked the bolt loaded in its release, and took aim. Zelda raised her hand and stopped the guide from firing though. "Look," she said, pointing. Four more garjos were closing in from the opposite direction of the other three. Qulanda changed her aim and pulled the release.

* * *

Duena was lost in the dance of blade forms. Fear and doubt swirled together on the edge of her thoughts but did not go any deeper. She flowed in the peaceful calm Link showed her how to acquire. All of his lessons came back to her and lay ready for use in her mind. She left one form and entered smoothly into another. Well-tempered Goron steel whistled through the air as she cut left and right, moving deftly around attacking animals.

Garjos snarled and launched themselves at her. Claws extended and tails whipped toward her head. Duena avoided it all. Her wrists popped as they slipped into their double joints and the sword in her hands arced completely about.

The pull to fight purely defensively was strong within her, but Duena knew that by only turning the garjos away, they would return and possibly hurt or kill someone else. Using offensive forms, she continued to fight regardless of the danger. Garjos flashed by from every direction, but not a single one made it into her inner defensive zone.

Distantly, beyond the quiet of her mind, Duena was amazed at herself. In that instant, she knew her journey was completed.

* * *

Bedlam ruled the throne room. Zelda fought and dodged for her life as the remaining garjos in the large chamber that were not feasting on fallen Si'Frant or on their own wounded, converged on her small group of fighters. Irbe, his blazonry covered in blood, broke the blade of his ax off in the skull of a garjo. The captain dropped the haft of his weapon and drew his short sword in one smooth motion. His constant companion, Kella reached into a leather brace filled with knifes—Irbe's by the way it hung from her belt past her knees—and pulled free two throwing darts.

She jumped, twisted, and threw the darts with two quick flicks of her wrist. The darts found their targets with frightening accuracy and buried themselves in the eyes of a charging garjo. The weapons were not long enough to reach the brain, but did blind the creature. It roared and snapped at the air.

Kella, showing no qualms about the brutal attack that she'd just launched, took up her knife and moved in for the kill. Her soft boots were silent on the stone floor as she tackled the creature, twisted awkwardly about, and efficiently cut the throat of the garjo.

Displaying equal marksmanship, Qulanda went down to one knee beside Zelda and took aim with her crossbow. Bolt after bolt soared through the air and found their targets. Garjos fell from mid-flight by the tens.

Within minutes her quiver was empty, and Qulanda reattached the bow to her belt with shaking hands. Zelda gave her a nod of thanks and offered her a blood-slick Si'Frant dagger. Qulanda accepted it and looked wearily at the battlefield.

Si'Frant suddenly flooded the area around Zelda and Qulanda. Glenn broke his own order and led the Si'Frant away from their formation. The remaining garjos were caught in between Duena and Irbe's arcing blades, Zelda and Qulanda and Kella's knifes, and Glenn's group of lingering Si'Frant.

In one terrifying incident, five garjos, apparently seeing Duena as the largest threat to them, attacked her at once. She swung her sword, but only managed to knock one away with the blunt side of her blade. The other four slammed into her back and the combined weight was enough to force Duena to her knees. Her sword tumbled from her fingers and slid across the floor to the remaining stairwell.

Irbe and Qulanda were beside the Goron within seconds, hacking and slashing at the beasts trying to bite through Duena's exoskeleton. Duena pulled her limbs inward and rolled onto her back. There was a sickening crunch as the garjos Qulanda and Irbe missed died underneath the weight of the Goron.

Duena came to her feet, looked for her sword, and gave an exclamation of surprise. The sword slid slowly toward the edge of the stairwell, its hilt and pommel hung precariously over the downward leading stairs. She reached for the sword but was a hair too slow. The blade continued to slide with the grinding sound of steel against stone and finally tipped over the side of the well.

Duena grabbed for it but missed. The blade bounced off several steps and disappeared from view. The Goron moaned and hung her head.

"Come on," Irbe said to her. "We still need you out there."

Duena nodded, pushed dejectedly to her feet, and followed the Hylian captain back into the fray.

Minutes later silence filled the throne room. The absence of screams, swords striking, and garjo roars was almost deafening. Zelda turned slowly about, amazed that she was still alive.

The handful of garjos that still lived had escaped into the air and now roosted on the high rafters. One reached Duncan's side like a dejected pet.

Even with the victory over the guardians of the temple, Zelda could see that it had come at a high price. Of the more than one hundred Si'Frant that had helped in the beginning of the fighting, less than fifty still stood. Several Si'Frant lay wounded and still alive on the floor, but most were already beyond help. Irbe had a few fresh wounds that would leave scars; Glenn had slash marks down his arms that bled freely; and Impa favored one leg and rubbed her right wrist. Despite their injuries, Zelda was relieved to find them still alive.

"We have passed your test," Yin called to Duncan. "Give us the Eye of Thanos."

"This was no test to prove our worth," Gil, also bruised and battered but visibly well, said. "This was an attack."

Yin looked to him and nodded slowly. "Then we will go to him and _take _it from him!"

"There has been enough taking," a new voice said from the throne room's entranceway. All eyes turned to the source and saw a small figure wrapped in a sand colored robe and concealed underneath a cowl. "The time has come," the stranger continued, walking into the chamber, "for the Si'Frant to choose their future."

"Who are you?" Yin demanded. "Who are you to dictate to us?"

"I am everything that you could be," the stranger said and pushed back her hood. "I am Verr, former student of Pav, holder of the Criv, and wearer of the Mik of Canor."

* * *

The echoing sounds of metal clanging against marble warned Link of the object falling from overhead. The Knight paused in his long climb and pressed his back to the wall.

He glanced up and was amazed to see a long sword falling end over end down the stairwell. It hit the step he stood on and moved to continue its descent, but Link put his boot on the blade and brought it to a halt.

Link studied the hilt for a long moment in the dim light, and noted the black blood glistening on it. "Duena," he breathed.

He reached down and picked up the sword with both hands. The blade caught and reflected the flickering light around the driblets of blood running down its length. Thinking about the potion still in his pack, and the plan he still had to execute to destroy the Eye, Link wiped the sword clean on his cloak and continued climbing the stairs.

* * *

Shock rippled through the Si'Frant. Gil gasped and appeared ready to faint. With Verr's cowl now back, Zelda saw that she looked just as she had during her visit with Pav to Hyrule. Her skin was smooth and, unlike the rest of the Si'Frant, was vibrant olive, not sickly gray. Her form was strong and built up with wiry muscles.

"A shade from the underworld!" one of the Si'Frant cried.

"I am not from the underworld," Verr calmly replied. "Though I am a shade of the past and a vision of what is to come."

"You have no place here," Yin said. "We do not entertain those that declare themselves inheritors of the Mik of Canor."

"She probably dug up Pav and stole it from his rotted finger!" another Si'Frant hissed.

"In that assumption, you are wrong," Verr said. "Pav ordered me his successor during his endtime, but I did not assume the roll of leader because I knew my destiny lay elsewhere.

"Though you are correct in saying that I have no place with you. I am here to offer you a place with me."

Laughter passed through the crowd of Si'Frant, but Verr did not appear disturbed by it. She stood several paces from Yin, her hands buried in the folds of her robe, and an aura of deadly calm about her. That calm was deceptive, Zelda knew. Verr might look relaxed, but in reality she was a coiled snake ready to strike. More than any other Si'Frant, Verr reminded her of Pav.

"And what is it you offer?" Yin asked condescendingly. "Paradise?"

"Not at all," she said. "I offer simply a choice: come with me and live or stay in stagnation and suffocate." Her words had a chilling affect on the Si'Frant; their laughter ceased immediately.

"What is this choice, _unta_?" Gil asked.

"The choice is this"—Verr counted off the details with her fingers—"abandon the old ways of living for others and start living for yourself. Take responsibility for the things you do and how you believe. And finally, live with the consequences of your actions. Face them to their ends, no matter how good or bad they might be."

"Oh, Sweet Light," Impa muttered coming up beside Zelda. "She sounds just like Link."

"She's right though," Qulanda added. "Whoever she is."

The Sheikah shook her head. "He's multiplying now."

"She speaks of abandoning the Si'Ra!" the first Si'Frant that had spoken up said. "She speaks blasphemy!"

"That's exactly right." Verr smiled coldly. "I am the heretic here to lead you all to salvation. I will serve no god that asks his or her followers for mindless servitude. No payment, no matter how opulent, is worth the price of freedom."

Yin stepped forward. "Leave here," he snarled. "I will not hear your blasphemy!"

"Then you will die," Verr told him. "Ignorance shall kill you and rob all meaning from your life and death. As for leaving—I choose not to."

"Return the Mik to us," Yin demanded. "It belongs to the Si'Frant as a symbol of our power."

"I am still Si'Frant, but I am also more. I wear the Mik not as a symbol of power or authority, but as a reminder of my teacher and as a warning of how seductive our old ways are."

Yin shook with rage. His hands opened and closed rhythmically. "Then I shall take the Mik from your limp finger. I formally challenge you!" With a battle cry, the Si'Frant charged Verr.

Zelda never saw Verr move. In a blink she was suddenly two steps to the side and her arm a blur of motion. She caught Yin as he flashed by, turned him about, and slammed him to the ground.

Verr's sand colored robe twirled about her legs as she distanced herself from Yin. "I did not come here to fight you, Yin. Recall your challenge and listen to me."

"No!" Yin flipped onto his feet and swung at Verr.

The former student of Pav ducked, wrapped her hand around his wrist as it passed overhead, and turned with his momentum. Yin attempted to break free of her hold, but she was faster. She locked his arm behind his back, hooked a leg around his, and forced him again to the ground.

Verr maintained her grip on his wrist and gave a savage yank as he went down. Even from where she stood, Zelda could hear the male Si'Frant's wrist break. His face contorted in pain, but he did not cry out.

Again, Verr retreated. "I give to you the archetype of fanaticism," she said to the Si'Frant watching wide-eyed. "My presence here is to teach all of you the lesson that will preserved your lives.

"A society ruled by radical beliefs that forbids independent thought and accountability cannot stand. When the Wizard Jarod died, the Si'Frant found themselves without guidance in a world that was more complex than our beliefs allow for.

"The belief that we do not have to choose our own way, that we can let our beaten gods do the deciding for us, is killing us. We must stand and face the world as it is—if there is injustice or wrongs then _we_ must take action to solve them, not pray that someone else will come along and do it for us.

"To assume that we can do nothing but pray for betterment only breeds ignorance. And ignorance is a slow poison."

"Lies," Yin rasped. He pushed to his feet, cradling his injured hand against his body. Reaching down, he pulled a bodkin from his boot. With another scream, he ran toward Verr.

Verr shook her head and squared her stance.

Yin swung high but Verr had already gone low. She backpedaled, twisting and dodging away from the long knife. He thrust the point at her heart, only to have it strike air when she spun away in a flourish of sand colored cloth. For as fast as Yin was, Verr was faster. She clearly outmatched him, but he would not yield.

Verr suddenly switched from defense to offence. Her left arm came up sharply and blocked a planned strike. A quick jab from her right hand to his throat sent him stumbling back.

Verr did not relent and pursued him. She spun and launched a kick aimed at his head. Her boot made contact and he went down to one knee. Her follow-through caught him square in the temple and dazed him.

With the ease of an adult removing a toy from the tiny hand of a child, Verr plucked the bodkin from Yin's grip and held the blade over the Si'Frant.

Yin gasped for breath; Verr barely breathed hard. She considered the wounded man before her for a long moment. Zelda knew, from what she had gathered from Si'Frant law, that Yin was now Verr's to kill. They had faced each other in formal challenge and she had clearly won. She could now kill him and take his possessions and rank as her own—the Si'Frant that followed Yin would then be honor bound to follow her. She could win with one stroke.

"This Si'Frant, my family, is a symbol of the old," Verr said, and sent the bodkin flying with a quick flick of her wrist. It slid across the floor and came to a rest several paces from the watching crowd. "I am a symbol of the new. I cannot force you to side with me, and I will not try. This challenge is finished."

Verr turned on her heel and walked to the mouth of the hall leading back to the entrance chamber. There she turned and again regarded the Si'Frant. "I have nothing to offer save for the freedom to live as you wish. I will not bless you with supernatural powers, pledge areas of the world for you to govern, or promise that your lives will be easier. In fact, they will probably be harder.

"Who will stand with me?"

The Si'Frant looked at each other with unsure expressions. No one had asked this of them before. Even Yin seemed baffled by her unwillingness to fight.

"What about the Eye of Thanos?" a voice in the crowd asked. "Will that restore our old ways?"

Verr shook her head. "Even if the sickness caused by the lack of bond ended tomorrow, you would still die eventually of the same disease. Magic may carry the sickness, but ignorance is what spawned it and continues to make it prosper. You all would go back to the Chamber of Tears and pretend that you could continuing denying life and embracing stagnation for another five thousand years, but a day will come when something changes.

"Something will return the sickness to you and begin the killing again. The Si'Frant cannot stand as they have in the past. Changes are coming to the world that will wipe us out if we remain as we are. We must change from the old ways to the new to survive."

"We will be safe from the illness with you?"

Verr nodded. "The magic of the Si'Ra will no longer touch you. However, you must want to embrace freedom. If you don't, then you have yet to accept change and will die in the name of the old ways."

A minute passed in silence. Fate balanced on the point of a quill as the Si'Frant made their choice. Slowly, one by one at first, members of the Si'Frant walked away from the group and took up position next to Verr.

"Traitors!" Yin screamed at them as they passed. Several stopped, appeared to rethink their decision, but continued on. Gil was the final one to make the journey across the throne room. Before joining his fellow revolutionaries, he stopped in front of his clanmate.

"Is this his final lesson, _unta_?"

Verr smiled a full smile. "Yes. This is what Pav asked me to do."

Gil gave a small laugh and hugged her.

When the exodus from the old to the new was finished, thirty-six of the remaining forty Si'Frant decided to join Verr—including Kella. Those that sided with Yin gathered at his side and stared defiantly at Verr.

"What of us?" Yin asked. "Will you execute us in the name of progress?"

"No," Verr answered sadly. "No punishment—even if one was to be handed out—could match what you have chosen to do to yourselves. We shall care for you, if you let us, when your endtime comes. When Death has taken you, I shall oversee your entombment in a place of honor in the Chamber of Tears."

Too weakened to do anything else, Yin nodded his acceptance of that.

"I'm happy for you, Verr," a quiet but confident voice spoke into the chamber's echo, "but it is time to let Zelda and my friends go."

Zelda jumped at the sound of that voice and spun around. Her gaze tracked upward and saw Link standing tall and strong on the balcony directly underneath the second tier balcony that was still intact.

Standing high above the ground floor, Link seemed larger than life. Power radiated from him and filled the chamber. His hair was long and his dark clothes were damp and hugged his form. Several days worth of beard growth lined his jaw. At his side was the Master Sword and hooked around the straps of his travel pack on his back was Duena's large sword. His blue-eyed gaze never wavered from Verr.

"Let them go, Verr," he commanded. "If you don't, I will cut through the Si'Frant with fury even your Si'Ra never displayed. Not one of you will be able to match me. And I can do it now—the Master Sword's magic has taught me how."

Verr looked to Gil who in turned looked to Zelda. "Princess?" he said.

Zelda's heart was pounding in her chest. It was an effort to return enough air to her lungs to speak. "I'm here underneath a flag of truce, Link. We're all fine."

"A flag of truce with the Si'Frant." His brows went up in surprise. "You?"

She smiled at him. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Good to see you alive, Link!" Qulanda called.

"And you and Duena, too." His expression sobered suddenly, as though realizing a task still ahead, and glanced to the largest and highest balcony. "We'll have to catch up later, my friends."

The Knight of the Triforce stepped to the edge of his balcony. "It ends now, Duncan. This is your last chance to turn over the Eye of Thanos and come down peacefully."

Zelda followed Link's gaze. In all the chaos, she had forgotten about Duncan and the Eye. High above them, Duncan Azar sat on the old throne with his head bowed. A sea of gray hair fell to his knees.

"Why wouldn't you stay away?" he said softly. The chamber's echo caught his voice and carried it down to them. "Why couldn't you have just left me alone?"

"Because I am who I am." There was sympathy in Link's voice, and, understanding. "I am a Knight of the Triforce, unschooled yet fully trained. The Eye of Thanos must die, Duncan. It is too dangerous to exist any longer. Come down here and I'll help you give it up."

"I can't!" Duncan yelled, coming to his feet. "The Eye can only be removed from a host one way—you know that!"

"So be it." Link's fingers toyed with the hilt of the Master Sword. "If those are the rules of the game, then I'm ready to play."

Duncan lashed out then. He raised the Eye and sent a burst of blue magic toward Link's balcony. Before the Knight could react, the magic hit and tore through the support arms of the parapet.

Zelda screamed and felt Irbe pull her back as stones fell to the ground floor and a billowing cloud of pulverized mortar swallowed Link. Slabs of marble larger than her armspan hit the floor with teeth-rattling impacts but there was no sign of Link.

A _snap-click_ suddenly sounded and a chain shot upward to the second level balcony. And then Link rose, like a large black bird taking flight, with his hookshot gripped tightly in both hands. The Knight shot straight up from the still expanding gray cloud. He reached the underside of the balcony, hooked an arm around one of the balusters, and pulled himself up.

Duncan did not seem impressed by the feat. He adjusted his aim and let free a continuous sheet of blue lightning.

Link scrambled to his feet and was running when the bolts of magic hit. Shards of stone and dust exploded inches behind his heels. The sound of winter's thaw echoed in the throne room as that balcony began to collapse as well.

Link jumped onto the top of the balusters, pivoted sharply around, aimed, and fired the hookshot again. With blue magic flashing around him, Link pushed off the balusters and swung across the chamber.

Although the Knight was too high to pose a threat to the people on the ground floor, Irbe ducked instinctually. Zelda watched wide-eyed as Link arced above her head and landed on the remains of the second tier balcony on the opposite side of the chamber. He disengaged the hookshot's point from its anchor and slipped into the shadows of the destroyed stairwell.

* * *

Hand over hand, and with a hard slab of marble pressed into his back, Link climbed up the remains of the stairwell. His heart pounded with the prospect of what he was about to do.

The pack and sword on his back scraped against the marble and slowed his ascent, but both items were essential to his plan. He hoped that if his plan was successful, Duncan would one day forgive him.

A light not far above him marked the entrance to the third level balcony. His rest period was almost over and soon it would again be time to play the game.

* * *

Zelda, like Duncan and everyone else in the throne room, searched the shadows for a sign of Link.

"What is he doing?" Irbe wondered.

"What his destiny demands," Impa answered proudly. "He is following what I told him about playing by the rules."

The garjo by Duncan's side snapped at the air and appeared ready to take flight, but Duncan stopped it with a raised hand. "What do you think you are doing, Link?" he called.

Then, after a moment of silence, Link answered from the mouth of the third balcony. "Why," he said innocently, "only what is expected of me. Fight me, Duncan, or face the wrath of the Knights!"

The Master Sword came free of its scabbard and Link was moving across the parapet. Duncan raised the Eye and let free another volley of magic. This time he aimed the magic at Link, not the stone he stood on.

Link was spinning before Duncan loosened the first blast. The Knight danced the forms of the blade with dizzying speed. The Master Sword was an almost continuous arc around his body as he turned away blast after blast.

Duncan screamed in rage and raised his other hand. The bursts of magic suddenly doubled and, if it was possible, seemed to come faster.

Link didn't break his stride. His boots never seemed to touch the same place on the parapet twice. Bolts, three at a time, hit the edge of his blade and rebounded about the chamber. Destruction rained down as the deflected magic cut a path in the walls and ceiling around the open apex.

The Knight twisted awkwardly on one leg, let several volleys pass by, and jumped and flipped over another burst. He came down with the sword in a high guard position, ready to intercepted more magic

Watching all this, Duena threw her fists into the air and said, "That is my teacher!"

As one, Irbe, Zelda, and Impa turned to look at her in surprise.

Qulanda nodded a confirmation.

* * *

In the quiet of blademastery and the stillness of the sword's magic, Link knew it was time. The part of his plan he'd been dreading. This was what Stne had foreseen and tried to prepare him for.

Link altered his grip on the blade of legend and turned its edge slightly—just enough to change the angle of the rebounding magic. He stepped forward and presented his profile to Duncan.

Two blasts of magic hit the edge of the Master Sword and shot back toward Duncan. Just as he'd wanted, the magic shattered the balusters in front of his old mentor. Duncan was unhurt but was knocked back a step from the aftershock of the blasts. A hole opened in the barrage and Link leaped through it.

Sheathing the Master Sword with one hand and pulling the hookshot from its quick release on his belt with the other, Link ran toward the edge of the balcony. He jumped, touched the railing with his heels, and launched into the air.

The hookshot fired with its distinctive _snap-click_ and crossed the distance between him and Duncan's platform. The spear-tipped end wrapped around one of the broken balusters once, twice, thrice, and the chain snapped taut.

Link jerked sharply and angled toward the main balcony. His thumb found the retract stud and pressed it down. With only the strength in his arms and the stability of a crumbling baluster to keep him from plummeting to the ground below, Link shot upward.

In a blink he was on the edge of the balcony and around the baluster. All doubt about what he was about to do emptied from his thoughts. He had to be whole to do this; just as Stne had known, there was no room for fractures.

The final garjo beside Duncan roared a challenge and stepped forward.

Link pulled the hookshot free without hesitation and brought it to bear. He fired at minimal range and impaled the guardian of the temple through the heart with the sharp tip. The beast fell dead and the Knight didn't give it another thought.

Link clipped the hookshot on his belt and stepped forward. Duncan drew back, held his hands out, and began drawing magic. A blue glow surrounded his hands and began forming into another blast of magic.

But the Knight was already running and magic would not stop him. With both hands he reached back and pulled the massive Goron blade free. Mindful to turn the blade at the last second on its edge so it went in creating the narrowest cut possible, Link drove the sword into Duncan's gut and ran him through.

Duncan gasped in surprise and pain. The magic lost its form and disappeared. He looked up at Link with large eyes.

Link wrapped one arm around Duncan's shoulders. They stood close, sharing each other's breath. "I'm sorry, Duncan," he said. "It was the only way."

Duncan nodded and seemed to understand. "At least I got to see you with real eyes," he whispered. As though on cue, the whites of his eyes suddenly grew milky and swallowed his irises. He was again blind. The changes to time, still incomplete, were unraveling.

Blue fire flashed between them and the Eye of Thanos jumped from Duncan's hand.

Link pushed Duncan away, ducked underneath the arcing relic, and reached for the Master Sword. He spun on his heel and pulled the blade free.

The Eye of Thanos lay three paces away, looking inconspicuous and completely harmless. Characters in Old Hylian engraved on the stones surface glowed blue and began to vanish. Smooth stone took the place of the engravings, a blank slate for the next host.

Link raised the Master Sword above his head and prepared to strike. Time slowed. Future and past lost meaning and stretched into infinity. Magic, unlike that of the sword's power, brushed his mind.

Link suddenly saw the sheer power of the thing at his feet. He saw how he could use it properly—his knowledge of its past misuses would surely guard him against making the same mistakes. With the Eye he could right so many wrongs...The other hosts had focused solely on their needs, but he would do things differently.

He had a vision of himself in the future, Zelda at his side, and a new order of Knights of the Triforce at his feet. All his children were blue-eyed and members of the principality. He saw a world free of injustice where evil had no harbor. His power went beyond the borders of Hyrule and banished all inequity, bigotry, and intolerance to the shadowy corners of the world. His children, holding bright swords of power, flooded those shadows with pure light and evil withered.

He saw a perfect world bought with a simple agreement to keep the Eye alive. Link didn't recoil from the vision. His cheeks tingled with the prospect of it.

Link moved a step closer to the Eye. Lost in the vision, he looked to the future Zelda. Time had aged her, given her lines and gray hair, but that only enhanced her beauty. Together they shared that future. Power and contentment shone in his eyes, but not in hers. Link paused and looked closer. Through her eyes, he saw a world deprived of freewill and liberty. Peace commanded at the edge of a sword. Happiness forced by the removal of all other emotion. And throughout it all, the rot of stagnation reaching out across the world and propagated by his sons and daughters because they knew no better.

He let the vision continue a moment longer, having already made his choice, and held the mature Zelda with his gaze. She smiled at him and understood. "I love you," she mouthed.

With the echo of the Eye of Thanos hitting the parapet still fresh in the throne room, Link brought the Master Sword down and cut the Eye in two.

Assassin of Magic.

The effect was immediate: unearthly screams filled the chamber and blue fire exploded upward from the destroyed relic. Link raised the Master Sword defensively and stepped back. Magic rode the flames up and forced them into a very decided shape—the shape of Thanos Le'Ven'Giloy.

The large man threw his head and moaned in outrage—his voice carrying from his prison to all realities.

Link recovered from his surprise and nodded with understanding. "It's nice to finally meet you, Thanos," he said.

"Who are you?" Thanos demanded. His voice was thick and heavy from non-use.

"I am a Knight of the Triforce," Link said. "First of a new order."

"How dare you disturb my existence!"

"Death comes to all things, Thanos. Two thousand years ago, when Jarod struck you down, you should have died but instead you found a way to cheat the underworld. You imprisoned yourself in your greatest creation—the Eye of Thanos.

"Because of your spell to link with this land, your 'death' left Canor in a state of non-life and non-death. I cannot let that continue. Canor must be allowed to live again. And you must complete your journey. Farewell, Thanos."

The ancient sorcerer suddenly became alarmed and began fighting against the walls of the reality he had created. Dark shapes began whipping past his form. They snaked around his waist, arms, and throat. Thanos screamed in terror and faded away. The blue flames around the remains of the Eye slowly died and the chamber was still.

Link shuddered as a wave of discontentment passed over him. Wherever in the underworld Thanos went, it was not a peaceful place.

"Link!" Zelda yelled from the ground level. "Are you okay?"

Link looked down at her, surprised momentarily to see her skin smooth and hair blonde. "I'm fine, but—" A quake that rumbled through the entire palace cut him off.

Stone ground against stone and dust began falling from the ceiling. More quakes shook the throne room, each stronger than the last. With horrible ripping sounds, blocks of marble began breaking from the walls and tumbling to the floor. Blue fire flared in those rents and the stone began to melt.

"Get these people out of here, Zelda!" he said, alarmed. "Without Thanos, all the spells of preservation are gone. It's collapsing!"

"What about you?"

Link glanced over his shoulder at Duncan. The old man lay with his knees drawn up and the massive sword still protruding from his gut. "I'll find another way out. Just get to safety."

Qulanda stepped forward. "Duena and I won't leave you, Link!"

"Yes you will. Stay with Zelda and make sure she's safe." With nothing left to say, Link turned away from the edge of the balcony and started for Duncan. He dropped the Master Sword and reached for the pack over his shoulders.

Falling to his knees beside his old friend, Link pulled the pack open and withdrew the healing potion Impa had given him when he left Hyrule. "I'm very sorry about this, Duncan," he said, gripping the hilt of Duena's sword. With as much care as he could manage given the circumstances, he pulled the blade from Duncan's body.

The sword came free with a sickening sucking sound. Duncan's sightless eyes came open, his back arched, and he screamed. Blood flowed and quickly stained Link's trousers and tunic.

Link pressed one hand to the wound in an attempt to staunch the blood flow and flipped the gold stopper off the flask with the other. Hoping that the vender that promised Impa it was the strongest potion made wasn't idly boasting, Link cupped his hand around Duncan's injury and poured the red liquid into the stab wound.

Duncan cried out and tried to fight Link, but didn't have the strength to overpower him. The wound sizzled and red foam surged up from it. Link wiped the foam away with his sleeve and poured more potion. This time, underneath the foam, Duncan was nearly whole. The wound had gone from an ugly deep puncture wound to a weakly bleeding superficial gash.

Link emptied all but a finger deep portion of the potion on the wound, then crawled up to Duncan's head. He slipped an arm around the older man's shoulders and lifted his head onto his lap. "Swallow this, Duncan." Link splashed a mouthful of potion into Duncan's mouth.

Duncan coughed and tried to spit the liquid out, but Link's hand quickly clamped his jaw shut and tilted his head back. "Swallow it, Duncan," the Knight commanded. "I don't know if you have any internal injuries."

It took some effort and precious seconds that they didn't have, but Link managed to get Duncan to take the rest of the potion down. He cast the ornate silver flask aside, lay Duncan's head back down, and pushed to his feet. He could only hope that the potion was strong enough to repair any internal damage as well as the external.

Destruction ripped through the throne room, he saw. Cracks had formed on the ground floor and widened enough for fire to push through. Black, greasy smoke rose from the bodies of the garjos and the Si'Frant that had been left behind. Link could see no sign of Zelda, her party, the Si'Frant, or Qulanda and Duena. He was glad they were safe. Now all he had to do was find a way out.

The hall with all the paintings of Thanos had collapsed so even if he could reach the ground floor, and survive the fissures and the flames, he'd never make it out that way. Behind the throne was a wide archway leading deeper into the palace, but he didn't like the idea of being in a stairwell if another quake struck. Desperate, Link looked up...and saw a way out.

"Light," he breathed. "Can't one thing just be easy?"

A loud snap sounded and the entire balcony shook. Finger sized cracks appeared underneath Link's boots and quickly ran the length of the parapet. Large chunks of stone began falling into the raging fires below. The garjo that had given its life defending Duncan, slid down the suddenly unleveled balcony and plunged into the rising smoke.

Metal slid across stone; Link looked in the direction of the noise and saw the Master Sword moving toward the edge. Link scrambled across the quickly shattering balcony and grabbed the sword's hilt just as the blade cleared the parapet.

Jumping clear of the edge, Link landed next to the throne. He could feel waves of heat rising from the ground level. Melted stone dripped from the walls like a twisted version of raindrops. The palace groaned as another quake threatened to rip it completely apart.

Link sheathed his sword, retrieved his pack and Duena's blade, securing both as best he could on his belt, and pulled his hookshot free. "Time to go, Duncan," he said. "I think we've overstayed our welcome."

He gathered his semi-coherent friend up and turned toward the balcony's edge. With one arm around Duncan's waist, Link raised the hookshot and fired. The chain shot straight up to its maximum length and returned to Link's hand.

"Light." Running low on ideas, Link looked helplessly around the remains of the balcony.

"Leave me," Duncan muttered. "Save yourself."

"It's a little late for heroics, my friend. Come on." Link half carried, half dragged, Duncan to the throne and boosted him on to the seat. The Knight followed him up and again regarded the open apex and the freestanding columns that rose from the top of the palace. "Let's hope this works because there's only one other direction left."

He raised the hookshot and fired again. The chain came free with a _snap-click_ and traveled the distance to the apex. Link waited until the device's point was past the nearest freestanding column and then turned his wrist sharply. The chain changed course, wrapped around the pillar twice, and snapped taut.

Link felt like laughing but didn't have the time. "Put your arms around my neck, Duncan," he said. "And hold on as tight as you can."

Duncan did so. "I'm getting too old for this dren," he said against Link's shoulder.

"You and me both." Link tightened his grip on Duncan's waist and pressed the retract stud. As the last balcony finally gave way to the destructive energies sweeping through Thanos' palace, Duncan and Link shot upward to safety.

* * *

Across the Wasteland of Canor magic returned to its casting point. It screamed back over miles of destruction and slammed into the palace. Wild unfocused magics tore through the old home of Thanos. The web of spells cast over the wasteland quickly fell apart.

Far beneath the ground level of the palace, fire and water wrought destruction. Quakes and flaking mortar brought down corridors and chambers, but it was firetraps set by a now dead necromancer and water released by the Knight of the Triforce that did the most damage to the palace's true power. Reams of books in libraries and experiments hidden from history in secret keeps were swept away.

Flames blackened and destroyed Thanos' experiments; water blurred the ink of his manuscripts. Unholy knowledge of the underworld and its workings, information about the Si'Ra, prophecies procured by Fegobvesjarod, and untested object of pure death magic were forever lost.

Histories best left forgotten.


	33. Chapter Twenty Nine

****

Chapter Twenty Nine

Bloody and weary, Link walked around the side of the remains of Thanos' palace and entered the courtyard. The sight before him was an odd one: Si'Frant were clustered together in one end of the large yard; Zelda and her party were in the opposite end; and Qulanda and Duena stood in between, looking unsure about where they belonged. Every one seemed to be talking at once and demonstrating with wild hand gestures what they had done in the throne room. Now that the fear of death was gone, they could look back and marvel at their individual rolls in what happened.

It was an odd sight; under normal conditions, half of these people would be ready to kill the other half. But to Link's eyes, it was beautiful.

"Link!" Zelda started for him.

Despite muscles crying out in protest, Link found himself running to her. They met somewhere in the middle of the courtyard and all other concerns suddenly became less important. He lifted Zelda from her feet, swung her about, and kissed her hard and passionately.

"Impa found you," Zelda said breathlessly when her boots were again touching soil.

"Yeah, she's with Duncan now." Link tightened his arms around her and breathed in the smoky scent of her. "Gods, you feel good." He drew back sharply when thought caught up with him. "Why are you here?"

Zelda gave him a sardonic look. "Where else would I be?"

"Hyrule. Safe behind a couple of battalions of palace guards."

"This was where I was needed," she told him. "This was where you were. No battalions were going to stop me from coming here."

Link sighed and tried to hold a stern face but failed. He hugged her again. "I'm glad you're here."

"Come on, I want you to meet someone."

With his arm around her waist, Link and Zelda started back to where Glenn and Irbe waited.

"Hello, Glenn," Link said. "Nice to see you again."

"Hullo, Link!"

"Link," Zelda said, "meet Captain Josia Irbe, head of my personal guard detail."

Link looked at her in surprise. "I apparently missed some things." He held out a hand to Irbe. "Nice to meet you, Josia."

The large man took the proffered hand and they shook. "I've heard a lot about you, Sir Link."

"Just so you know"—Link kept his tone jovial but squeezed Irbe's hand enough to let the man know his level of seriousness—"if anything ever happens to Zelda, and you're still alive, I'll come after you second. Remember that." He released Irbe's hand and smiled good-naturedly.

Irbe returned the smile with an unsure one.

"I'll catch up with you later, Glenn." Link turned Zelda around and they started walking to the center of the courtyard. "My turn, princess."

"Was that really necessary?"

"Yes, it was."

Looking intimidated by the soldiers and warriors around them, Qulanda and Duena brightened at Link's approach.

"Link!" Duena said excitedly. "I did as you instructed! I danced the forms of the blade and controlled my fear. I was worried I would falter, but I managed to find my quiet center—just as you taught!"

Link smiled. "I knew you could do it, Duena. Congratulations." Separating himself from Zelda, he reached over his shoulder and pulled the Goron's sword free of its makeshift sheath. "You should have this back then." He twirled the sword about and formally presented it to her hilt first with the blade balanced on his arms.

Reverently, she took it from him. She looked comfortable holding the bared blade. "I thought I would never see this again."

"I thought I would never see _you_ again," Qulanda put in. "Are you all right, Link?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm fine," he said. "Better than ever before. Zelda, this is Qulanda Rinter and Duena. Both proved to be invaluable traveling through the Wasteland of Canor. They are friends and I owe them a lot."

Zelda inclined her head in a small bow. "Qulanda and I met in the throne room, but we didn't have much time to speak. Duena, that was a very impressive display of blademastery in there."

The Goron drew herself up tall. "Thank you, ma'am."

Qulanda's gaze flicked between Link and Zelda. "Link talked about you a lot during the trip here," she told Zelda. "Treat him well or you'll have us to answer to."

Zelda laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"There's something I want to discuss with you, Qulanda," Link said, drawing her to the side. "For getting me here safely, and for going far beyond what is expected of a travel guide, this is yours." He reached into his tunic and withdrew a leather pouch filled with rupees.

Qulanda's eyes widened at the sight of the money purse. "That's more than three hundred, Link. I can't take all that."

"You can and will." He pressed the bag into her hands. "You didn't have to go in the palace with me, but you did. You didn't have to stay and fight Duncan, but you did. Plus, you'll need the extra money to pay the right people for information in Cape Town."

Wet eyes met his gaze. "What?"

"I can make it back to Hyrule without you," he said. "Go south to Cape Town and find her and bring her back, Qulanda."

For almost a full minute, Qulanda just gaped at him. Finally, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "Thank you, Link," she whispered. "I will."

Behind them, Duena cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Might I accompany you, Qulanda?"

The guide stepped away from Link but kept an arm around him. "I might have to rent a boat and sail the Great Hyrulian Sea, Duena. Why would you want to come with me?"

"After what I experienced in that palace," the Goron said earnestly, "I find that I feel confident in facing anything—even water.

"You are my friend, Qulanda, and still require assistance. I shall stay with you until the end if you will have me. That is," she quickly added, "unless Link has an objection."

"No," Link said. "If there was any debt between us, you have more than repaid it. I'd take her with, Qulanda; Duena has proven to be quite helpful on a journey."

"Spirits guide us, you are more than welcome with me. Let's go to Cape Town!"

"Oh!" Duena threw her arms wide and scooped Link and Qulanda up in a big hug. "I shall miss you, Link!"

Duena lifted them like rag dolls and squeezed them tightly. They waved their arms and slapped the Goron's exoskeleton.

"Can't...breathe," Link gasped.

"We done yet?" Qulanda managed.

Duena held them a moment longer and then set them gently down. "I shall miss your company, Link," she said again.

Link drew a deep breath. "Likewise," he said honestly. "You, too, Qulanda."

"I feel that we'll all meet again," Qulanda said. "Maybe legends will even be written about us someday."

"I think you two are on your way to writing those legends already." Link looked to the side and saw Verr beckoning him and Zelda from the opposite end of the courtyard. "I have to go now, but I'll see you off before you leave."

The two travelers nodded and let him walk away. Zelda, who had stepped back and let the friends have their moment together, joined him again. "Should I be jealous?" she asked lightly.

"No. Wrong gender for that."

"Really?" Zelda raised her brows. "For you or her?"

"I'd think you would know the answer to that better than anyone, princess."

Verr, leader of the Si'Frant, stood waiting for them. The hood of her sand colored robe was up and masked her face.

"You wanted to see us?" Link asked.

"I wished to thank you before we departed," Verr answered. "When you cast Pav and I from Hyrule with the words that we must live for ourselves, I was left confused. I still thought then that the Si'Frant should remain as they were.

"Your words, Link, sent us down the path to redemption. Thank you."

"I only wish the price didn't have to be so high," Zelda said. "I know how many people you lost on the way here and fighting the garjos."

Verr's shaded eyes glazed over with sadness. "Thank you, Princess Zelda. No lesson is without pain, however, and it seems we paid greatly to learn how to live."

Link glanced to the group of Si'Frant behind Verr, watching them. "Where will you go now?"

Verr was silent for a moment. "The Si'Frant have not been on good terms with the Vless for centuries," she said. "Perhaps it is time to rectify that. With them beside us, we can begin rebuilding Canor and our ranks. It will take a long time, but the end...the end is worth it."

"Indeed." Link offered his hand and Verr shook it. "Travel well."

Zelda stepped forward and offered her well wishes too.

"One last thing, Knight," Verr said. "My teacher foresaw something on the horizon bearing down on us all. He called it a new world order. I am now privy to many things he knew, but not those visions. It seems when this order arrives we shall all be, as you Hylians say, trapped in the dark together.

"I do not know if we will be needed, but should a day come when you or Princess Zelda are in need of help, call us and we shall come. The Si'Frant will stand ready to face whatever the future brings."

"Hyrule offers the same commitment," Zelda said. "Goodbye, Verr."

Link nodded. "Farewell."

Verr secured her cowl and turned on her heel. She began walking toward the gates and the Si'Frant fell into step behind her. The procession was horribly small, but all walked with purpose in their strides. For the first time in their lives, these Si'Frant saw the world through the eyes of the free. In many ways, Link reflected, they were even more dangerous now than when they were overzealous slaves. Now, however, they were an army against darkness. As the group passed the mouth of the gates, he thought back to his vision of the future in the palace.

"You look oddly pensive," Zelda said. "What's on your mind?"

"The future." Link looked to her. "I was just thinking about the horizon."

Her gaze slipped away for a moment, but returned to his. "I think you and I are going to be doing a lot of that, aren't we?" The final part of that came out almost hopeful.

"No," Link said, "we won't."

Zelda recoiled slightly. "But I thought in dreamscape...I thought we were going to—"

Link pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh. I meant, _nati_, that if there is a dark destiny ahead of me that it can come and take its best shot. I refuse to live in fear of shadowy words whispered by a prophet centuries ago."

"But what about the path of sins?" she asked.

"Well, so far my path seems pretty clear," he said. "I'm happy now. Maybe I made the choice correctly and altered the prediction."

"But you can't know for certain."

"We're not supposed to know about the future, _nati_. I'll walk the path I selected without fear of where it will lead. Right now I have all that I want, and the future doesn't matter because it will only be what we make it."

Zelda opened her mouth to speak but closed it again without uttering a sound. She tilted her head and considered him. "What did you call me?"

Worry showed on his face. "Didn't I use the term correctly?"

"Y-yes," she stammered. "If you meant it in that context."

"I did."

"I thought you didn't know Old Hylian," she said.

Link slipped his arms around her waist. "And I told you that I'm always willing to learn." He leaned in but she stopped him with a hand against his chest. "What?"

Her face contorted in a grimace. "I don't like your beard, Link. Could you get rid of it by tonight?"

"Tonight?" He paused for a heartbeat. "Absolutely."

As they kissed leathery birds flew high overhead. Pollen and spores, no longer dormant, fell from their wings to the ground. Insects were slowly making their way back into north Canor. Life was returning. It would take generations, but plants and trees would again grow from fertile soil. Canor would no longer be a wasteland. The plants and animals, however, would remain forever changed by the magic that had infested the land for so long. The legacy of Thanos.

* * *

Impa tore a strip of cloth from the hem of her robe and gently wrapped it around Duncan's sightless eyes. "You foolish, foolish man," she said. "Do you have any idea what you have done? What you put me and everyone else through?"

"I just wanted to make things right," Duncan said, resting against one of the stone columns on the ruined palace's roof. "I tried so hard to save my father and Givoi. I tried so hard, Impa, to undo all the harm that resulted from the stupid mistakes of my youth. Every time I changed something, it only became worse. I saw what would have happen if I had not destroyed that book, and I think I shall forever have nightmares about that timeline."

"Well," Impa said in an uncharacteristically tender voice, "perhaps your decisions were not all stupid, then."

Duncan gave a bark of a laugh. "I must have been condemned from the start to make bad choices. I had thought that by helping and teaching Link, I could tip the scales back in my favor, but that is no longer possible."

"Why?"

"He surpassed me, old woman. Link used one of my lessons about the perception of belief against me and took the Eye. He made me think—made the magic think—that he was going to kill me and convinced the magic to abandon me. It was genius. Pray, Impa, that your student never surpasses you."

"Little chance of that." Impa sighed and regarded the infuriating man that had driven her from one corner of the world to the next. "Was it worth it?" she asked. "Knowing the price?"

"I always knew there would be a price to pay; there's always a price for power. Yes, even though my work remained incomplete, the price is just. I'm an old man and what are a few years off my life?"

"Will you go home to Calbor?"

"No," he said. "My sister thinks I am dead. Why tell her the truth only to have her face my real death not long after? No, it is better this way." He smiled to himself. "Much better than it was before..."

* * *

It had become a routine for Isgrid. After her daily lessons, she would cross her small village to Lady Azar's house. In the wintertime, when the air coming from the Great Hyrulian Sea was frigid and biting, she would wrap herself in a cozy wool cloak and make her way across the influential areas of her village.

She would pass vendors selling furs and scents from all over the known world. Even the cold weather could not keep many of the traveling merchants away. Many of the yearly visitors would recognize her from business dealings with her father and call out greetings.

Isgrid's father owned the town's general store and leased many of the booths the merchants set up in. Her father would let the vendors use the booths in return for some of their wares that he would then sell during the off-season when they sailed back to Calatia or Faran. It was a complex system of trades and handshake deals. A system that her father had promised she would learn when she was old enough to take control of the business.

It was for that reason among many that Isgrid enjoyed these weekly visits with Lady Azar. Acting as official courier between her father and the head of Azar Trading Company, Isgrid was learning much from Nara.

Sometimes, after Nara signed the papers and they were back safely in the young girl's pouch, Isgrid would ask Nara to tell her stories about the past. Nara would smile and oblige.

She would talk about how she took control of the family shipping business when her father died of a fever, and about the heroics of her brother at the Tower of Magic. Duncan Azar had sadly died decades earlier when several of his fellow students had fallen under the spell of an ancient spirit and stolen a book of magic. He had gone with a wizard squad to save the students, but when the spirit proved too strong for the wizards, he had thrown the book into a fire and burned it. They cast the spirit out, but it struck Duncan down with its last gasp in the world of the living.

Wizards from the Tower had come to Calbor—everyone living then remembered it, but could oddly not recall their names or faces—and haled Duncan as a hero.

It wasn't long after that when Nara and Duncan's father fell ill and left control of the company with Nara. Lady Azar, as the town knew her, had struggled at first, but managed finally to return the company to its glory.

Arriving at Nara's villa, Isgrid politely knocked on the double doors. One of the servants let her in and showed her to an elegant drawing room.

Lady Azar was waiting there for Isgrid, and smiled a full smile when the little girl walked in. "Welcome, Isgrid. Did you bring those forms your father promised?"

"Yes, ma'am." Isgrid opened the pouch at her waist. This part of her job always made her feel very important. "I have them here."

"Then sit and let's go over them. When we're finished, I'll take you down to the garden and we'll talk for a while."

Isgrid walked to Nara, passing an old, worn walking stick propped against the corner of the room as she did so. Nara never mentioned the stick, never even showed any signs of having seen it. Isgrid shrugged and her gaze slipped easily from the walking stick. Perhaps it was just a forgotten family heirloom...

****

End.


End file.
